Behind Enemy Lines
by Make It Out Alive
Summary: Much is expected of Durmstrang student Demetria Harris. She must become a Death Eater for her grandfather, win the Triwizard Tournament for her school, and even dance in high heels. Falling in love just doesn't make the cut…or does it? Book I.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

:.:.:

The raucous singing reached my ears first, followed by the glow of lanterns flickering between the trees. I, along with the others, tread through the forest, dressed as the shadows and soundlessly bearing down on the earth. And once we reached the edge of the woods, we could easily detect the lit campsites and the people celebrating among them. Leprechauns were shot above the heads of the crowd which still issued from the stadium, swinging about their own lanterns which emitted a green radiation.

"Seems Ireland's won," observed Antonin Dolohov with an evil smirk. He looked to the rest of us whose faces were now hidden behind skeletal masks, all except myself and the white-blond-haired son of Malfoy — Draco — who didn't have one.

"I'd say it's as good a time as any…to break up this party," Lucius Malfoy himself wickedly suggested.

Aside from my grandfather Carlisle Harris who came to my side, they all issued their sinister laughs. He and Lucius then gathered Draco and I and brought us back a ways into the shrubbery. They each lifted their masks and lowered the hoods of their black cloaks, eyeing the pair of us with urgency.

"You know what to do." It wasn't a question which came from Carlisle, the life so easily seen draining from his once-vibrant irises.

"You must remain unseen," Lucius reminded his son. "Speak to no one," His eyes then fell upon me as well. "and _stick together._"

Draco and I each gave our individual nods prior to the men before us concealing their faces. They then gestured for the others to move forward and immediately after, simultaneously gave us the same order: "Run."

I took off first, Draco's trailing behind easily perceived by ear. And though I was fast, I was nowhere near fast enough to avoid thickets, their thorns threatening to tear through my own darkened attire. But despite the sensation of pine filling through my chest, nothing could conquer the heavy weight which rested upon it. Deeper and deeper we continued to travel into the dense forest, but more and more the anxiety seemed to build within me. Until finally, Draco had caught up and cut ahead. He was forced to physically stop me, his hands dropping to my shoulders, panic in his grey orbs.

I listened closely beyond the sounds of gunfire and the screams which my rapid heartbeat had been drowning out, and then I heard it — people were fleeing into the woods. Draco and I had then unintentionally darted off in different directions. All light was lost aside from the firey blazes back at the campsite, so when my body collided with something solid, I hoped if it was another, it was Draco. But I knew that wasn't the case, and my fears were confirmed upon hearing a voice in the darkness mutter, "_Lumos!_"

A trio of red-heads were revealed, one a young girl and the others a set of older twin boys. The one with his wand out leaned forward, baby blue eyes narrowing to get a better look at me perhaps, but I didn't allow him to. My eyes remained in slits, my hand stretched to cover my face from the blinding light of his wand.

"Watch where you shine that bloody thing!" came the other twin, snatching it from his brother's grasp.

I knew I should have turned and started running but the next thing I knew, he'd shone his wand tip on my leggings which I finally saw held home to several tears, cuts in my flesh now exposed. One in particular sent a river of blood flowing down to my combat boot clad foot.

"She needs treatment!" said the girl insistently. "Charlie can —"

"No!" I pivoted, only to have my hand caught by the twin now wielding the illuminated wand.

"Let us help you!" he insisted, but I snatched my hand back and began running.

If the trio had taken off after me, I couldn't decipher which footsteps would be their's. I simply allowed my feet to carry me aimlessly through the forest until I saw it pierce through the night sky, revealed for the first time in thirteen years — the Dark Mark.


	2. Chapter 1: The Luck of the Draw

_**Chapter One**_

_The Luck of the Draw_

:.:.:

How do you come back from something like that intact and unfazed? Is it even possible? In my case, I've had to learn to make it possible. I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…built to function without one.

My grandfather, you see, he was all I had. He was my guardian, my only family, for I never really got the chance to know my parents. The only thing I knew about them was the way they looked on their wedding day, thanks to the picture Carlisle had given me. All right, so maybe that wasn't the _only _thing I knew… But Carlisle never spoke of them, never even told me how they died. One day he just sat me down and told me as quickly as possible that some Aurors from the Order had murdered them for being Death Eaters.

_ "You look just your mother, you know," _Carlisle had told me at ten-years-old._ "But your father is definitely in there as well. You've certainly gotten his hair and eye color_…_and Quidditch ability, no doubt. He played Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados, I'll have you know."_

"_Demetria? Demetria?_"

But all at once, Carlisle's voice began changing, growing somewhat deeper and gaining a…Bulgarian accent?

"Demetria?" The voice's owner shook me from my thoughts…literally. "Are you all right?"

I straightened up from where I sat in the common room, occupying the entire window seat, and found myself staring into the dark eyes of my seventh year friend, Viktor Krum.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him, my own accent of British origin clashing with his (not to mention the rest of the school). But Viktor still looked to me with a skeptical brow raised. "Honestly, you can lower those bushy eyebrows of yours."

Shooting him a grin, which he returned, I allowed my eyes to wander back out the window to find the same old mountainous landscape surrounding the castle.

"Vat is it you are thinking about?" Viktor inquired.

But regardless of all the years I'd known Viktor, the fact that my grandfather was a Death Eater, and even my parents having been them, that was something I wasn't even ready to admit to myself yet. "My parents." It wasn't a complete lie.

Viktor walked over and I dropped my legs to make a space for him to sit; he did. "I'm afraid I knew your parents no more than you, but I do know this — they would be proud of you, Demetria. After all, you are one of the top students here at a school no other vitch could survive in, let alone succeed."

I decided I wouldn't even think about if that were true or not, I'd just believe it was. "Thanks, Vic."

"Viktor, Demetria," called a voice from the threshold of the common room. It was a sixth year by the name of Grigor Poliakoff. "Karkaroff vants everyvun down in the Dining Hall straight away, so hurry, von't you?"

"Nie se priblizhavame," I assured Grigor in his native tongue. **(**_**We're coming**_**) **I'd known not a single word of Bulgarian when I first arrived, but what could I say? I was a quick learner.

Grigor smirked and countered me with, "Opitaĭte i realiziraneto na tozi, pokazhi izlitane."

"Bugger off, Grigor," I teased, having no idea what he had just said. Viktor and I then made our way over to him. "Let's just get to the Hall so you can bathe in the tarator like always. You know how Karkaroff just _loves _your eating habits."

At that, Grigor playfully tugged the medium brown locks which somewhat greatly surpassed my shoulders, the three of us then making our way down to the first floor. And once nearing the Dining Hall, we found ourselves swallowed up in the sea of students all wriggling through the crowd to enter the Hall. So since Grigor, Viktor, and I had somehow managed to stay together, we moved to occupy three empty seats in a row and did so with success. It wasn't long after that all of the other blokes had found seats of their own and Karkaroff stepped up to the podium from his spot in the front of the Hall.

"God kvled," he began. **(**_**Good evening**_**) **Regardless of whether everyone there was Norwegian or not, we'd all come to know what certain terms such as that meant. "Naturally, you are all wondering why I haff asked you all to be here, yes? Vell, I vill not prolong my reasons. Gentlemen…and lady…" He spotted me rather easily and a few students, as well as myself, gave a chuckle. "this is the first time in over a century that ve vill be attending an event known as the Trivizard Tournament."

A wave of excitement broke upon everyone in the Hall, all undertones detected as buzzing. Even Viktor and Grigor began muttering about something. Despite hailing from a pure-blood family, I was one of the few still awaiting an explanation.

"Now then, for those of you unavare of vhat this tournament is, the first was held in approximately 1294 —" Nearly half of the blokes issued groans. "Stillhet," he ordered sternly. **(**_**Silence**_**) **"As I vas saying…Each of the three schools — Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogvarts — vere represented by von Champion apiece who vould compete in three tasks designed to test magical ability, intelligence and courage, traditionally judged by the Headmasters or Headmistresses of the competing schools. Champions vould compete for the honour and glory of not only vinning the Tournament, but the prize for the victor — the Trivizard Cup and a monetary prize."

"Vich school is hosting this year?" inquired a student I recognized to be Aleksander Nikolov, a fellow fourth year. Everyone submitted their agreements which practically drowned out Karkaroff as he attempted to warn us of the rise in death tolls.

"Hogvarts School of Vitchcraft and Vizardry. _But_, not all of you may come — Hush!" he silenced all arguments prior to their peak being reached. "And since I know you vill all complain about this news as vell, I shall get it out of the way — You haff to be at least seventeen to enter your name," But if the blokes were outraged, they managed to keep it quiet for once. "Anyvay, as far as who vill be coming to Hogvarts, my first choices vill be those of age and of great skill. For anyvone else to be chosen, it vill be — as I haff heard the Americans say — the luck of the draw. I vill announce said students the morning before ve depart for Hogwarts…a veek from today. That is all! Off to your quarters!"

There were only a handful of different expressions spread amongst the blokes. All those of age left with a distant look on their faces, while nearly everyone else appeared either furious or anxious. But from what I could see, Viktor and I were the only two participating in neither facial appearance.

"Reckon you'll enter, Vic?" I asked him.

"I haffn't even been chosen to go yet," was his humble reply. He knew as well as I did how much Karkaroff favored him. So I only continued to stare at him as though saying '_Really_ Viktor?'. He gave a full laugh. "All right, so my chances are looking good. And even if I didn't submit my name, Karkaroff vould for me. But vhat about you?"

"I'm not old enough to compete," I reminded him, now noticing Grigor trailing at my side like a zombie. His eyes were wide as Quaffles and his jaw was dragging along the floor. "And even if I was, I wouldn't want to end up looking like that."

Viktor found Grigor and grinned, shaking his head hopelessly at the poor bloke. "But you vould be more than capable of surviving, I am sure. Who knows? Maybe they vill make an exception." He nudged my shoulder teasingly.

"Thanks," I smiled. "But I wager my father's Quidditch legacy, plus my own someday, ought to give me enough eternal glory to last into my old witch age. I don't need to be a Triwizard Champion."

"Neither do I," He shrugged. "But it vould be fun to vatch, no?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "but you heard Karkaroff — it's the _luck of the draw_," I imitated him with my best attempt at his fruity, unctuous-voiced accent.

"But you must know he has a soft spot for you as well?"

I shrugged. "Most of the professors here do."

Grigor seemed to finally have wiped the drool from his blood-red robes, composing himself enough to form a sentence. "Are you thinking I have a chance at making it?" he asked Viktor and I.

"Without a doubt," I assured him as he gave a confident smile. "You _have _chosen a rather elite group of friends, after all." It had fallen just as quickly, Viktor and I both chuckling at our friend. "Not to worry, Grigor, I'm sure you'll make it. But you'll have your answer soon enough, the week'll be over before you know it…"

:.:.:

"That vas the longest veek of my life!" embellished Grigor upon everyone's arrival into the Dining Hall. The day for Karkaroff to announce the dozen students traveling to Hogwarts had finally arrived, and I felt absolutely no different.

"Calm yourself, Poliakoff," Nikolai Pavel leaned in to say. "Vouldn't vant you drooling on yourself again, vould ve?"

"Sod off, Pavel," I told him as I placed a hand on Grigor's shoulder. "If Grigor's chosen, it's because of pure talent. If _you're _chosen, it's because Daddy's gone and bought your entry."

The gorilla-resembling git narrowed his eyes in my direction. "You'd be vise to vatch yourself around me, Harris. Vouldn't vant any harm coming to come to…Durmstrang's Lille Prinsesse."

With that, he and his sallow looking side-kick continued on to locate a seat. And though it hadn't been in Bulgarian, it was easy enough to decode. _Durmstrang's Little Princess_, I thought in disgust. But I simply allowed the comment to roll off my back, for Pavel wasn't the only bloke in school who seemed to think I was. And it never helped that nearly all of the professors, Karkaroff included, would give me a sort of special treatment from time to time. Whenever they did, I would try and tell myself it was because of the skills beyond my years which I possessed, but that was rarely even half of the reason why.

"God morgen," **(**_**Good morning**_**) **I hadn't even noticed Karkaroff take the podium, but sure enough, there stood said Headmaster, the same old smile he wore unable to reach his cold eyes and the same old goatee ending in a small curl from his chin. "Before ve tuck into our breakfast, I believe there is something you have all been vaiting for, no?"

The Hall errupted in their own forms of confirmation, seemingly every bloke going along with Karkaroff's little game of fetch. He threw the ball and everyone ran to bring it back, even Grigor. But knowing Karkaroff, he'd only throw it back out into the air again until someone caught it between their teeth.

"And you have all been vaiting so patiently for this day, but I'm afraid I have forgotten vhat it is you have all been vaiting for…" The ball was tossed again and Grigor gladly leapt into the air to catch it. He slammed his fist down on the table and began shouting at Karkaroff along with the others.

"All right, stillhet!" he demanded. "After careful consideration, I have finally decided who vill be making the two day journey to Hogvarts for the Trivizard Tournament," he continued dramatically. "Vhen and if your name is called, come forward and be seated at the Head Table. Now, in no particular order…Viktor Krum!"

Naturally. I joined the Hall in applause and watched as Viktor shot me a knowing glance before standing and making his way toward the Head Table in front of the Hall. He took a seat between Karkaroff's aide — a seventh year whose name escaped me — and the empty seat of Karkaroff himself.

"Sasha Polinskiy!" Ah, so _that_ was his name. Sasha rose briefly to take a bow before descending back into his seat. And the next four names Karkaroff announced were also those eligible to be the Durmstrang Champion.

"Nikolai Pavel!"

"Oskar Kowalski!"

"Sergei Christov!"

"Grigor Poliakoff!"

I actually had to catch the Drama King who'd pretended to faint from his spot on the bench. But luckily, it wasn't for long, Grigor quickly 'regaining consciousness' and practically bolting toward the Head Table. Honestly, he was just too much sometimes. But anyway, the remaining six names were the underaged students who would support their Champion. And for some reason, that was when the butterflies began fluttering within my stomach.

"Aleksander Nikolov!"

_I dunno why I'm so anxious about this, _I mused. _After all, I don't absolutely _need _to see the Tournament._

"Brody Rolek!"

_It's really all right, I don't need to go._

"Marcus Azarov!"

_There are so many other students here, I'm sure my name wouldn't be called even if I wanted to go_…_which I don't._

"Ivan Skar!"

_Although_…_it could be fun just like Vic said_…_And I'd be going to Hogwarts, where my parents went to school_…

"Yuri Blok!"

_Oh to hell with it! Please call my name!_

"and Demetria Harris!"

For a moment, I thought I was simply caught in a daydream. It wasn't until one of the boys had given my shoulder a nudge that I finally realized I wasn't. So I stood upon fairly shaken legs and made by way to the Head Table where the only open seat remaining was between Karkaroff and Nikolai. _Just my luck_. But regardless, there wasn't a moment to socialize — or insult — Nikolai what with Karkaroff's mouth immediately running as soon as his arse hit the chair. He went on to babble about how we all knew how to behave and make a good first impression and other bollocks of that nature. After that, I'd managed to completely tune him out as he spoke of the traveling accommodations. But there then came one word which had brought me back into orbit — well, two — Yule Ball.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I intervened, though Karkaroff hardly seemed to mind. Though if it had been someone like Grigor, there would have been a tad bit of yelling involved. "but what's this I'm hearing about a Yule Ball?"

"Actually, I vas just about to explain that, Demetria," he replied coolly. "The Yule Ball is a tradition involved in the Tournament. It is a formal dance held on Christmas Eve of the tournament year, and is opened by the Champions and their…partners."

"You mean ve must vear our dress robes?" inquired Sasha.

"No, that vill not be necessary," Karkaroff assured. "I haff decided Durmstrang vill stand out far more if you vear these uniforms." He nodded his head to Viktor who was sporting, though like every other boy there, the school's blood-red robes with the fur cloak and black pants.

That was when my fear truly began seeping in. Looking down at my own attire (my school uniform consisted of basically the same thing though with a bit more of a feminine touch) I knew it, unfortunately, wouldn't be appropriate for a formal ball.

"What about me, Professor?" came my question reluctantly.

"For _you_, Demetria…" He seemed deep in thought before appearing rather sad, as though moved with remorse for me. That could only confirm my worst nightmare…or well, one of them at least. "…I vould owl home for your outfit."

"You must be doing the kidding…?" scoffed Nikolai, amused. _Harris_ in a _dress_?"

"Von may as well dress a chimp in lingerie," teased Grigor.

And though strange a point it was, it was true. I didn't even _own_ a dress, let alone _wear _them. "Professor, is it required that everyone attend this ball?"

His face distinctly fell. "Vell no, but it vould show great…teamvork on Durmstrang's part."

If there was one thing that simply couldn't work on me it was a guilt trip. I remained completely oblivious to Karkaroff's crestfallen reply and told him decidedly, "In that case, you can count me out."

A long sigh and then: "Very vell." But he'd almost immediately dove back into his informative demeanor. "Now, remember to finish packing by tonight. Haff your luggage vith you tomorrow morning and be at the docks no later than six o'clock. Ve set sail at dawn."


	3. Chapter 2: Welcome to Hogwarts

_**Chapter Two**_

_Welcome to Hogwarts_

:.:.:

With the sun still tucked away below the horizon, there was nothing more than a tint of blue lighting to show my way around the castle. Impending orange glow sat patiently somewhere, as I made my way down to the docks with my luggage. Coincidentally, Viktor and Grigor's paths had crossed with my own and so we continued the walk together. Soon enough, the tall mast of the great skeletal-looking ship of Durmstrang came into view. The dots below indicated the arrival of the other students all bringing their luggage aboard. The three of us moved cautiously upon reaching the slippery, cobblestone steps leading down the slope of the mountain, until our combat boot-clad feet touched down on the wooden dock.

"Krum, Harris, and Poliakoff," said Karkaroff to Sasha who marked something down on a clipboard. "Vonderful! That is everyvun!"

And so we stored our luggage before climbing aboard, Karkaroff immediately heading for his cabin as Sasha took the wheel. "RAISE ANCHOR!" he comanded. A collection of blokes moved to do so. It wasn't long before we'd began gliding out into the open waters.

I strode over to the railing and watched the castle until it was nothing more than a spec in the distance. And some time later, when the sun's rays began to spread along the horizon, Sasha called out, "PREPARE TO DIVE!"

We all retrieved our wands and casted all charms and other spells necessary to keep the ship and ourselves in tact. Then, once we were ready, the ship cut through the ocean and we remained completely unharmed — and dry — under it's glassy, blue surface.

:.:.:

Nearly three days later, on October 30th, was when I finally heard Sasha call out the words: "PREPARE TO DOCK!" Karkaroff had emerged from his cabin just as the ship began to rise from out of the water. None of us were aware of the time of day or had any idea of our surroundings, but once we'd finished removing the remaining Charms, we were free to observe. I leaned against the railing once again, my lungs thankful to finally be able to breath in an air fresher than sea water.

"DROP ANCHOR!" came Sasha's orders once more; those in charge of it did as comanded.

I was rather surprised to find dusk had fallen, cold and clear, with a pale moon shining over the now black waters and giving the skeletal ship a somewhat eerie aspect. But the chills were nothing when compared that of school back in Norway.

"LOWER THE PLANK!" Karkaroff called out. Sasha did so, Karkaroff then the first one to step from it and touch down on official Hogwarts grounds. "Dumbledore!" He then said heartily to the white-bearded wizard with the twinkling, blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles — the great Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," was Dumbledore's reply.

I made by way down the plank right behind Viktor. "Prepare yourself for the hundreds of fan girls, Vicky," I warned him lightheartedly.

"Good luck fending off your own hundreds of fan boys," he countered.

"Yeah, right," was my sarcastic reply. "I'll hire Grigor as my body-guard."

That was a common misconception people always tended to have about me. They thought simply because I was the only girl attending Durmstrang that all of the boys would just flock to me. That was absolutely not the case. Not that I haven't had my fair share of boyfriends and snogging, but the fact remained that the blokes of Durmstrang would prefer to give me a high-five rather than hold my hand. Which was probably why upon reaching the mass of Hogwarts students, I grew slightly self-conscious as most people began gawking at me. Well, it was either myself or Viktor and I was hoping it was the latter.

"Viktor, come along, into the warmth," Karkaroff's voice cut through the undertones of the students. His hand crashed down upon Viktor's shoulder before turning to face Dumbledore. "You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

That just about did it. Whomever hadn't noticed Viktor before, certainly took notice of him then. Karkaroff then chose that moment to lead us all forward and file up the steps of Hogwarts, Viktor and his crazed mob of fans rushing along. I hung back a bit with Grigor and was unfortunate enough to catch a snippet of conversation between some of Viktor's fan girls.

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me —"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"_Really._"My voice mixed with the lofty tone of another female, evidently just as annoyed with those cackling hens as I was beginning to be. The girl must have heard me because she'd turned around and caught my eye, offering a small, sort of buck-toothed grin. She had bushy brown hair and a pair of irises hued to match.

"Fan girls will be fan girls." She shrugged as if adding, '_What're you gonna do?_'.

But I, never having having really socialized with let alone made a friend with a girl my age, simply shrugged in reply and gave the pathetic reply of: "What're you gonna do?"

"Hey, you!" hissed a voice. There was no need to turn though, for the red-headed boy had quickly slithered his way in between the girl and I. "You know Krum?"

He was one of my closest friends, but all things considered, I didn't really want something like that too well known around Hogwarts. Otherwise, people would be hunting me down for Viktor's autograph like a bloody dog.

"Sorry, never heard of him," I lied; Grigor chuckled beside me.

"What d'you mean?" asked the boy, truly puzzled. "I just saw you speak with him! You go to the same school! What about you? You know Viktor Krum, don't you?"

He nodded to Grigor who swiftly played along. "Viktor who?"

"Ugh! C'mon, Harry! Maybe we can catch him!" And so the boy tugged on the arm of his dark-haired friend whom I hadn't even really seen. But anyway, they'd managed to wriggle through the crowd and pass through the threshold of what reminded me of the Dining Hall back at Durmstrang. Though at Hogwarts, it was referred to as the Great Hall.

"Don't mind, Ronald, he's completely obsessed," said the girl to Grigor and I. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Grigor Poliakoff," he introduced. "Pleasure to meet you."

Her eyes then fell expectantly on me. "Demetria Harris." Grigor and I then stopped upon entering the Hall, finding our fellow schoolmates leaned against a wall, contemplating which table to sit at. For much like in our own Hall, there were four tables lined vertically beside one another, the only difference at Hogwarts being that they were each clearly for different Houses.

"You could sit with us if you'd like?" Hermione invited, standing between myself and the Gryffindor table.

But I took one look over at it and my gaze was immediately, almost as though by a magnet, pulled into the orbit of a certain red-headed boy's gaze. Not Ronald, which Hermione had called the boy wanting Viktor's autograph, but another with baby blue eyes which widened upon locking with my own set of hazel. It was the boy from the forest on the night of the Quidditch World Cup. No wait, it was him and his twin…_and _two seats down, it was even the red-headed girl!

"Bloody —" I caught myself and quickly returned my attention to a patiently waiting Hermione. "N-no thanks," I told her, my eyes then darting over to find Viktor settling down at the Slytherin table along with the rest of the Durmstrang population. "We'd better stick with the group." I took Grigor by the hand and rushed over, the feeling of those blue eyes burning into my back making me rather comfortable.

"Demetria," began Grigor with concern. "vhy is it you are so jumpy?"

"I just…didn't want to lose Viktor," I lamely fibbed, dropping into an empty spot on the bench beside Viktor which was also, unfortunately, across from Draco Malfoy.

"Harris," he curtly greeted. Though he and I had known one another for years, we'd never actually taken the time to get to know one another. We'd attended all of the Death Eater and pure-blood community occasions there were, and yet still we were nothing more than mere acquantinces.

"Malfoy," I returned with just as much ice in my tone.

"Almost forgot you're a Durmstrang student," he admitted indifferently.

"Almost forgot you're a spineless cockroach," I retorted. Not that I hated Draco, I really didn't have anything against him, but anyone who becomes a Death Eater simply to please their father was a cowa — Oh… Well, it was different in my case…wasn't it? I mean, Carlisle knew I didn't _really _want to follow in his footsteps…didn't he? All right, all right, so maybe it wasn't fair to treat Draco in such a way. "Sorry." I shot down my gaze, unable to look into his grey eyes.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the silenced Hall. He stood before a staff table very much similar to the Head Table at Durmstrang. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

There came a derisive giggle from one of the Beauxbatons girls, which prompted Hermione to mutter something. And though I couldn't hear exactly what, I'd detected enough to pick up on her cutting tone.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

No sooner did Dumbledore take a seat than did the gold plates positioned on the tables filled with food. That certainly wasn't something we had at Durmstrang. Most of the selections were foods I'd seen before, but there were also more foreign varieties as options. And knowing Grigor, he'd feel the need to try them all. So upon turning to my left, I was hardly surprised to find him already devouring some sort of dish I'd never seen before…probably French. And speaking of foreign foods, dessert only brought more. So once all plates had been wiped clean, Grigor practically wore all he'd eaten and I'd looked up to find the red-headed twin eyeing me from across the table between us. Luckily, Draco obstructed my view of him.

"Who're you staring at?" he asked, capturing the attention of Grigor and Viktor. I glanced between the three of them and racked my brain for something to say. But thankfully, Dumbledore stepped in and saved me from having to do so.

"The moment has come, the Triwizard Tournament is about to start," he announced to the Great Hall upon standing once again. "I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —"

"Who died?" Grigor asked completely stone-faced. I only nudged him in the ribs.

"— just to clarify the procedure that will be following this year. But first, allow me to introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause grew tremendously louder for Bagman than the pattering of polite claps for Crouch. Possibly because Bagman had been a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, but also because he simply looked like a friendlier gent.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," persisted Dumbledore. "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts," Upon the mentioning of champions, everyone seemed to perk up a bit. Dumbledore must have noticed this, for he smiled and said, "The casket then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

A man whom I hadn't even noticed standing in the Hall's corner — whom I assumed to be Mr. Filch — approached Dumbledore from his lurking in the shadows and brought before him a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Excited murmurs began filtering throughout the Hall as Filch gingerly placed the chest on the table before Dumbledore who continued speaking.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways, such as their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. I simply rolled my eyes. If these people feared three magical tasks in a tournament, they wouldn't last a minute in my combat boots upon facing Lord Voldemort and his swarm of Death Eaters.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore continued. "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Despite the numerous conversations which errupted after Dumbledore's final words, my ears had easily detected the red-headed boy's twin shout that out. My eyes lingered upon him for a moment, following him and his twin along with Hermione, Ronald, and his dark-haired friend as they made way for the Great Hall's exit along with everyone else.

"Back to the ship then," came Karkaroff's voice as he bustled up to where the rest of us stood milling around the Slytherin table. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

But Viktor only shook his head, Grigor then jumping in. "Professor, _I _vood like some vine."

I threw my hand down on his shoulder to restrain him from practically jumping Karkaroff.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_, Poliakoff," he snapped. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy —" He then turn and proceeded to lead us toward the front of the Hall, my hand remaining on Grigor's shoulder regardless of how much taller than me he was.

But once we'd reached the doors, we stopped there, Karkaroff seemingly involved in some sort of brief exchange with the dark-haired friend. And though I hadn't been paying attention, for I was far more concerned with keeping my gaze away from the red-headed boy, Grigor nudged me and pointed openly at the boy's forehead. That was when I saw it — the lightning scar.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," growled a voice from behind us. We all pivoted to find recently retired Auror, Alastor — Mad-Eye — Moody glaring unblinkingly with his electric blue magical eye at Karkaroff. He leaned heavily on his staff and all at once, the color from Karkaroff's face drained. But still he dared to cause a scene.

"You!" he said to Moody.

"Me," was his grim response. "And unless you've got something to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

I couldn't have been more thankful when Karkaroff finally decided to continue on through the Hall's threshold. Unfortunately, I evidently wasn't out of the clear yet, for there came a gentle tug on the hand which wasn't still rested on Grigor's shoulder which pulled me back into the crowd and further from my fellow Durmstrang students. And very much to my horror, it was none other than Mr. Baby Blue Eyes himself holding me by the wrist.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked, his orbs searching my own as though he'd find the answer there.

But because he'd caught me so off-guard, I simply rushed anything foreign out of my mouth, which turned out to be, "Vie ste izmama!" **(**_**You're cheating**_**) **simply because I'd heard Grigor say it countless times when he and I were playing Exploding Snap on…the ship!

I tore my hand away from the bloke's grasp and pivoted, cutting through the crowd as best I could until I'd finally made it outside. There, I was able to catch up to my classmates who were all making a bee-line for the docks, and I swiftly began walking beside Grigor as though I'd never left.

"Demetria!" he exclaimed. "Vhere have you been?"

"Off vith a secret British lover of yours?" teased Aleksander Nikolov.

The boys all broke out in a chorus of laughter, but I remained silent. With luck such as mine, I'd be running into Mr. Baby Blue Eyes more often than I'd like…

XxX

The next morning, we were all woken up early by Sasha (in place of Karkaroff) and told to dress and ready ourselves to enter Hogwarts. the blokes and I had dressed in our lightest uniforms — them with their long-sleeved brown shirts tucked underneath a waist-high black belt with matching brown pants, and I with the same thing but omitting the belt and the brown shirt replaced with a black one. We still wore the same black combat boots however, our pants always tucked inside them. And though the boys would always give me shite about girls taking longer to get ready, they'd clearly never met a girl such as myself, for I was the first one off the ship.

"Morning, Demetria," came Karkaroff from behind. I turned and saw him make his way down the plank and stand before me, Sasha at his side.

"Morning, Professor," I politely replied.

"Tell me, Demetria," he began, standing completely upright with his head slightly inclined upward. "do you smell that?"

At first, I was completely thrown off by his question, almost afraid to take a sniff. But once I had, I smelled nothing more than the stench of the lake water. "The lake, sir?"

Karkaroff gave a full laugh. "No, no," he said. "I am referring to the smell of the Goblet shooting out Viktor's name as our Champion."

"I smell it, Professor," insisted Sasha, but Karkaroff paid him no mind, his eyes fixated on the castle.

"I don't believe that is a scent, sir," I told him, smiling despite myself. Karkaroff was a bit out there, but he was always good for a laugh.

The clunking of combat boots against the wooden plank sounded from behind me once again, this time with the rest of the blokes striding down it. They all continued to march on up the slope with Karkaroff and Sasha leading, and myself falling in line beside Viktor.

"Demetria, do you not take pride in the way you look?" he whimsically asked.

"Is this s'posed to be your attempt at an insult, Vic?" I retorted.

Viktor shrugged. "I just thought I should be the one to tell you of the bird's nest resting on your head."

I swatted him playfully in his gut, the two of us laughing as we made our way up the steps into Hogwarts, walking on toward the entrance hall. And though I knew Viktor was only joking, I still ran a hand through my magically straightened hair (it was naturally curly) only to have him emit a snort of laughter. That only resulted in a punch to his arm followed by more laughter on his part and a lighthearted smirk on mine.

Karkaroff had those of us who were underage simply sit and watch as the possible Champions submitted their names into the Goblet of Fire. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor to encircle it which must have been the Age Line, and whenever a name was entered, the Goblet's blue-white flames would briefly turn red and spit out sparks. So once all of those eligible from Durmstrang had entered, we'd all made a quick stop in the Great Hall to get some breakfast. But since Brody Rolek wanted to see the other schools enter their names and I wasn't all that hungry, we simply snatched a few pieces of bacon and a blueberry muffin each before returning to the entrance hall.

"So, d'you reckon Durmstrang's got much competition?" Brody asked me, his Scottish accent almost taking me by surprise. He was in my year, but I'd never really had a full-fledged conversation with him. Though I'd spoken with him enough to know that he was born and raised in Scotland but with a Bulgarian background, hence his schooling at Durmstrang.

"I actually wouldn't know," I told him honestly upon our second entry into the hall. "I'd say we're the first to enter."

And even after we'd waited, regardless of the fact that it hadn't even been that long, the only people who entered the hall were doing exactly as Brody and I were — standing around to watch. That was until a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks came running in beside Mr. Baby Blue Eyes and his twin. Luckily though, he hadn't even noticed me for the three of them had gone straight over to Hermione, Ronald, and Harry Potter. I actually hadn't even seen that trio enter, but there they all stood, whispering to one another until their voices grew loud enough for my ears to detect that they'd created some sort of Aging Potion. But I kept myself somewhat hidden behind Brody who simply continued to nimble on his muffin. I suddenly wasn't feeling all that enthused about finishing my own, for when the bloke _did _take notice of me, it caused a churning in my stomach.

"Ready?" his twin asked, pulling his gaze away from mine. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

"These two can't be serious," Brody said to me under his breath.

"I know," I agreed, eagerly waiting for the twin to be thrown out of the circle after he'd walked right up to the edge of it. "I mean, who d'they think they're fooling?" That second part came much softer, however, for the red-headed bloke had turned in my general direction upon hearing Brody's comment. And after all, I couldn't have him knowing I spoke English, could I?

"You ever going to tell me who you are?" His eyes weren't on me anymore, but I knew his words were directed toward me. He didn't look at me again until he'd had his fill of the silence, and that was when I shook my head. "So you _do _understand me?"

Oh, _now _I'd done it. Then again, not necessarily. But judging by the victorious grin etched across his face, I must have dug myself into some sort of hole. So I decided to try and play the foreign card again.

"Ne si gubete vremeto s men," I told him. **(**_**Do not waste your time with me**_**)**

His grin never faltered as he turned toward Brody. "Oi!" he claimed his attention. "You don't reckon this'll work?"

"Not a chance," Brody scoffed good naturedly. "'Specially when you're trying to get past magic done by Albus Dumbledore."

"You seem a fan," the twin assisted. Those two were definitely up to something.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," admitted Brody with a shrug of his shoulders. "I haven't got nearly as much interest in him as this school though. I've read _Hogwarts: A History _about a dozen times."

The devious pair looked as though they'd heard exactly what they wanted. "Then would you care to place a wager on this?"

After a moment of consideration, Brody told them, "I'm listening…"

"If our potion works, you've got to introduce us to your little friend —" The twin gave a wink.

"— and act as our translator," added the other.

"But if it doesn't work," He passed it back to his brother. "We'll give you a tour of the entire castle."

Brody, who had been looking at me upon my being mentioned in the bet, certainly wasn't any longer. He beamed ear to ear and fervently told them: "You're on."

And so, smirks remaining intact, Mr. Baby Blue Eyes's twin, after rocking on his toes for a good five minutes, inhaled and stepped over the line. For a split second, I actually thought it'd worked, and I found myself unaware of which outcome to hope for. Apparently the bloke was led to believe it worked, for he'd released a triumphant yell before leaping after his brother. But suddenly, there came a loud sizzling sound and both twins were launched out of the golden circle, landing with a thud on the cold stone floor about ten feet away. A popping noise then issued and they both sprouted identical long white beards. Laughter sounded throughout the entrance hall, the twins and even myself included.

"I did warn you," came Dumbledore's amused voice. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

"I reckon you two owe me a tour." Brody smirked, and it truly unsettled me to find that the twins doing the same, visible despite the long beards.

"Right you are, my wisely-gambling Scottish friend —"

"— On just _one _ickle condition."

Brody's eyebrows raised skeptically. "What is it?"

A bit of a dramatic pause and then: "Little Miss Durmstrang's got to come along."

"I —" It was a good thing Brody decided to cut me off when he did, or else the next words out of my mouth surely would have been English. But I suspected the twins knew it would be, considering the mild alarm which issued across their faces upon hearing that single word…or well, letter.

"Hold on," said Brody. "You two didn't win —"

"You don't have to introduce us —" assured one.

"— and you don't have to translate," the other said.

But just as Brody appeared to be musing it over, the voice of Dumbledore came once again. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, the hospital wing…?"

"On our way, Professor," assured one of them, the other beckoning Brody and I to go with them. Honestly, at that point, I'd simply given up figuring out who was who. After all, it seemed as though they were both after my identity.

"What d'you say, Demetria?" Brody turned to ask me just above a whisper.

And though I wanted so very badly to turn him down, the hopeful smile he wore along with the gleam in his eyes simply extracted the fight right out of me. "All right," I told him reluctantly, grabbing his hand just as he was about to pivot. "On one condition."

"_Another _condition?" Brody asked me whimsically.

"Don't mention my name," I warned him seriously.

Brody only nodded, his face as grave as I had been, before making his way toward the twins. I, unfortunately, trailed close behind. Once we'd made it over, the twins and their friend with the dreadlocks immediately began leading the way. At first, they whispered among one another, but then turned and began walking backwards, except for their friend who simply hung back to walk by Brody's side.

"Good morning, lady and gent, and welcome to the Tour of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the twin on the left enthusiastically told us before pointing to his brother. "He's George Weasley —"

"— he's Fred Weasley —" he pointed to his twin.

"— and he's Lee Jordan," both of them introduced the boy with the dreadlocks at the same time.

"We ask that you keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times —" said George before Fred cut in.

"— unless you're looking to get your arms gnawed off by a couple of hungry, sleep-walking, Slytherin gorillas —" he quickly added in an undertone.

"— as we make our way to our first stop."

"The hospital wing," came another one of their simultaneous declarations.

Lee Jordan and Brody both appeared truly entertained by the twins' performance. I had to admit, it was amusing, but I didn't even allow so much as a shadow of a smile to break through. But with the way George kept his eyes on me, I figured it was his goal to get me to do so. He must have been the one who'd grabbed my hand in both the woods and the hall last night.

"So, who do we have with us today, Lee?" Fred asked before he and George turned in order to lead us up a flight of stairs.

"Fred, I'm here with two students all the way from Durmstrang Institute," Lee played along, feigning the holding of a microphone. "Hello, sir, what's your name?"

"The name's Brody Rolek," he told Lee who'd put the 'microphone' closer to his mouth. Brody gave a laugh before adding: "Oh, and this is my friend D — Er, my friend."

Fred and George had whipped back around in an instant, each throwing names out there beginning with D in an attempt to guess my name.

"Diana?"

"Debra?"

"Delilah?"

"Danielle?"

"Dakota?"

"Dallas?"

"Denver?"

Once the guessing of my name had turned into the guessing of American cities and states, that was when I began glaring at the pair of them. That was until George leaned in a bit, stroking his beard, and solemnly whispered, "Dolores?" I couldn't hide the grin anymore after that, my smile breaking through alongside a breath of laughter. But I quickly caught myself from revealing any more and my mouth snapped back into a hard line.

George offered a genuine smile. "You should smile more often, Dolores."

"Around Durmstrang, we call her Lille Prinsesse," shared Brody mockingly. I reacted as I usually would and swatted him hard in the gut. "_Lovingly_ of course," he added upon clutching his stomach, face twisted in discomfort.

"Y'know, George," Fred began, continuing to lead up another flight of stairs with a mischevious grin already in place. "seeing as how we don't know this mysterious maiden's name, perhaps _we _should call her that as well."

"You've got a point there, Fred," said George, mirroring the smirk, before his eyes locked with mine. "Unless, of course, _Princess _decides to tell us."

I'd actually been _this _close to cracking, nearly snapping at those two trouble-making twins in the king's English, but I didn't. I was able to restrain myself, despite how deeply the nickname dug under my skin. I truly despised it. Mostly because it had been Nikolai Pavel who'd given me said nickname in the first place.

Honestly, it felt almost out of my element just turning the other cheek. But it also provided a sense of victory upon watching the twins' faces fall ever-so-slightly in my doing so. It wasn't until we reached what I assumed to be the hospital wing that their words were also directed towards me again.

"We'll just be a moment," Fred assured the rest of us. "Lee, Brody — keep your boxers out of a bunch —"

"— and Princess, don't worry your pretty crowned head." A wink and George had followed his brother through the large wooden doors.

I couldn't take it. That was when I simply just _had _to say something, regardless of Lee Jordan's presence. "I'm leaving, Brody," I told him before swiftly making my way around him, only to have him pull me back in by the hand toward a shocked Lee.

"C'mon, Demetria," Brody pleaded. "You're a part of the deal! Besides, don't you want a tour of the school your parents went to?"

Lee was muttering things such as 'Demetria' and 'English', but Brody and I simply ignored him for the time being. "Of course I do!" I confessed. "I would just prefer one given by someone other than those two baboons."

"They're not bad! Not bad at all!" Brody insisted. "They remind me quite a bit of _you_ actually."

"I don't see the resemblance," My hand flew to the hem of my shirt to fiddle with the fray, Brody's statement actually being true. The twins and I did share the same sense of humor, and Brody was right about another thing — they truly weren't bad. Not bad at all. But would they be treating me the same if they knew who I was? Demetria Harris, daughter and granddaughter to Death Eaters. Plus the fact that they'd encountered me in the forest at the Quidditch World Cup, so they must already have had some suspicions about me. I wasn't about to just confirm them. "Look, just trust me, they're better off not knowing me."

"So, Demetria, you're British?" said Lee cheekily.

"Yes, I am," I sweetly replied before my tone went sour. "But you will _not _be telling Fred and George about this."

"Are you mad?" he asked me with eyes as wide as Quaffles. "Fred and George are my best friends! Of course I'm going to tell them!"

Feeling as though there were no other option, I lifted my right leg to retrieve my wand which remained dormant inside my combat boot. I then pointed it threateningly in front of Lee's face. His dark eyes nearly crossed in an attempt to stare at it.

"Don't make me do it, Lee," I warned him.

Lee released a shaky laugh. "You wouldn't kill me…" Though he seemed a bit unsure.

"No," I confirmed. "but I _would _cast a Stinging Hex so strong your face would swell until you were unrecognizable."

Lee's eyes shifted from my wand to my own orbs. He then gave a brief glance toward Brody who only nodded to affirm my seriousness. "Why is this such a huge deal exactly?" Lee skeptically inquired.

"Just promise you won't tell Fred and George," I persisted, poking my wand to his chest.

"Demetria —"

"You too, Brody!" My wand remained on Lee but my eyes had shifted over to the Scot himself. "Silent as the stars, both of you." I repeated the words Grandad had always told me when I was younger.

"But wh — ?"

"Promise!"

"We're back!" Fred practically sang as he and George appeared bursting through the doors. Luckily, they'd been so focused on their entrance, they hardly noticed me quickly stowing my wand away. "Hope you didn't miss us too much, Princess."

But my reply consisted of nothing more than a roll of my eyes and a huff of breath. And though I'd diverted my gaze from the pair of them, I carefully watched Lee when George jokingly asked him: "She wasn't talking about us, was she?"

Lee grinned and told him, "Silent as the stars."

XxX

Nearly an entire day spent without a single English word uttered. It had to have been a new record for me. And Hogwarts was so bloody big that by the time we'd completed our tour, I could see both the Beauxbatons students and my own classmates making their way back to the castle. And though for a moment I'd thought perhaps Karkaroff had been having kittens over mine and Brody's absence, but I was quick to realize that he was far too preoccupied prepping Viktor for the Tournament to worry about the pair of us. Speaking of, it seemed Viktor and Karkaroff felt they were the only ones who should even be attending the Feast that night what with the way they strode so far ahead of the others. But another thing I realized was that it wasn't Viktor's fault, Karkaroff just got carried away. And Merlin, did he ever.

"I'm surprised he hasn't printed Viktor's face on the back of his cloak yet," I leaned in to tell Brody.

"Did you say something, Princess?" cooed George, he and Fred smirking from a ways behind Brody and myself. I turned silently and waited until Karkaroff and Viktor were near enough that Brody and I could fall in behind them.

"Harris! Rolek!" Karkaroff brought his mouth from Viktor's ear to say. He'd probably been encouraging Vicky dearest the entire walk from the ship. "Where have you two been?"

I risked a glance back at Fred, George, and Lee who were engaged in their own hushed conversation. Discussing which surname was mine, no doubt. Bloody hell, when would those blokes give up? And actually…Lee better not have been telling them which was mine.

So while Brody gave our reason, I sent a significant glance at Lee who only winked in reply. I just hoped that was a good sign.

"So long, Princess!" all three of them chorused dramatically. I smacked my face against my palm as some of the blokes snickered, especially Nikolai.

Karkaroff then led the lot of us into the Great Hall which was nearly filled. The Goblet of Fire had been moved from the entrance hall to in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the staff table. The blokes and I went to re-claim our seats at the Slytherin table from the previous night, Draco acknowledging my presence with nothing more than a nod that time. A nod which I returned. It wasn't until more than half-way through this Halloween Feast that I decided to strike up a conversation with him.

"So, Draco," I began casually as though we spoke all the time. I had his attention though he seemed rather taken aback. "who's got the best shot at being your Champion?"

Draco briefly scanned the Hall before admitting rather bitterly, "Cedric Diggory. He's a Hufflepuff, seventh year. Naturally, I should be cheering for Warrington considering he's a House mate, but…Well, Slytherin'd be better represented by a chimp."

I was surprised that I'd actually released a bit of a chuckle at that. In fact, Draco seemed to display the shock for me considering I didn't. But just as quickly he was smiling, as was I, and then we were smiling at one another. It had taken us a few years, but I finally realized Draco Malfoy wasn't all that bad. And apparently, he felt the same.

"You're all right, Harris," he told me.

But I teasingly told him, "Oh, I know."

Finally, after what was deemed too long, when all anxiety and impatience was too much to bear, Dumbledore rose to his feet and a wave of silence crashed over the Hall. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on either side of him were appearing far more tense than anyone else. Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, was beaming and winking at students while Mr. Crouch looked rather bored. But I had to admit, even I couldn't contain my own impatience.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the front of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he gestured toward the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Taking out his wand and giving a great sweeping wave with it, Dumbledore had extinguished all candles besides those within a carved pumpkin, plunging the Hall into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brilliantly than anything else in the Hall, the bright, blueish-white flames almost painful to gaze upon.

"Are you needing for me to hold your hand, Demikins?" teased Grigor from beside me.

I didn't even look back at him as I elbowed his ribs playfully. "Careful not to wet yourself, Grigikins."

Suddenly, I could feel Grigor's body harden like stone beside me as the flames in the goblet glowed red, sparks emitting. The next thing I knew, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it. The entire room gasped as it gently descended, Dumbledore reaching out and catching it in one swift motion. The flames had returned to the blueish-white and he held out the parchment so to read by the light of them.

"I thought it best to relieve my students of their incredulous worry first. And so, the champion for Hogwarts," he began in a strong, clear voice. "is Cedric Diggory!"

Draco and I looked to one another, him with a knowing smirk and I with an impressed version. And with a storm of applause and a sea of Hufflepuffs rising to their feet, the brown-haired boy I'd assumed to be Cedric made his way past them and headed for the chamber. It had actually taken some time for the cheering to die down but once it did, another silence fell upon the Hall. After a moment, the goblet turned red once again, a second piece of parchment spewing from it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore. "is Fleur Delacour!"

Over at the Ravenclaw table, amidst the out-break of applause, there was a rather Veela-resembling girl who'd shot to her feet and tossed back her silvery blonde hair. And while she'd made her way toward the staff table and into the chamber, she'd left the rest of the Beauxbatons party in shambles. I kid you not, two of the girls who had not been selected actually dissolved into tears.

Fleur's applause had ceased right on cue, as soon as she'd disappeared into the chamber. It was time for the Durmstrang champion. And though it was basically a known fact that Viktor would be named champion, there were still those pesky butterflies swarming around in my stomach. The Goblet of Fire then turned red once more, sparks showering out of it and the tongue of flame shooting the last parchment into the air.

"And the champion of Durmstrang," said Dumbledore. "is Demetria Harris!"

–

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**A/N: **_Hey, so for those of you that don't know.. the site's been having an error whenever you go to try and upload a new chapter, which is why I haven't updated in a while. _

_So I'm sorry for that (even though it's not my fault), and I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!_

_I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, or added me to your alerts! It means a lot!_

_& if you haven't.. be sure to do so ;)  
_


	4. Chapter 3: The Wrong Champion

**A/N: _IMPORTANT. _**_I know I don't ever put my author's notes in the beginning of the chapter, but there's something very important you should know before reading. _

_Brody Rolek is now Finnick "Finn" Anderson. Sorry for the name change and any confusion following! I know I did this in my Sirius/OC fanfic but I'm just indecisive! _

_But that's it, so enjoy! Don't forget to review!_

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

_The Wrong Champion_

:.:.:

Demetria Harris? As in _me _Demetria Harris? I knew I should've moved, should've gotten up and made my way toward the staff table, but I just couldn't. My body suddenly became far too heavy to lift off of the seat, either that or I was just afraid my knees, so wobbly and unsteady, wouldn't support me. Come to think of it, that was probably why.

But everyone in the Great Hall continued to applaud, all except Durmstrang, the only ones who knew I was not of age to compete. Speaking of Durmstrang, I couldn't even stomach a glance at Karkaroff. And had it not been for Viktor who gave me a gentle push off the bench, I wouldn't have had to. So though I would have preferred to slid further into my seat and pretend I wasn't even there, I found my body moving forward while my head remained back at the Slytherin table.

I had just passed the staff table, all professors expressing their congratulations for me in a smile — all except Karkaroff of course who sat wide-eyed and mouth ajar — before all applause had ceased as I'd made my way through the door of the chamber. The brief journey into the small room could have been considered silent, had it not been for the shouting within my head.

_This is such a mistake! _continued to swarm through my mind. _I didn't put my name in the goblet!_ So who did?

Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory stood waiting, feasting their anxious eyes upon the third champion, which had somehow turned out to be myself.

"_You _are ze champion of Durmstrang?" inquired Fleur through her thick French accent. She appeared just as shocked as I felt.

But before I could reply, Cedric had cut in. "You seem a bit…" he racked his brain for the appropriate term. "…small to be seventeen." Why the word 'small' required a bit of musing, I had no idea. And how exactly was that even putting it nicely as Cedric had clearly intended to do?

Regardless, I explained to them, "I'm only fourteen." That certainly widened both of their eyes. But before they could comment, there came an echo of footsteps. Pivoting, I found they belonged to Harry Potter.

Fleur had then composed herself enough to toss her curtain of long, silvery hair and say to Harry: "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

But before Harry could deliver whatever the message was — if there was one at all — more scurrying brought forth Ludo Bagman who'd linked his arm within Harry's and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he mumbled. "Absolutely extraordinary! Ladies…gentleman," he added upon approaching the fire-side. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the _fourth _Triwizard champion!"

All right, now things were truly just getting out of hand. Not only were there now _two _underaged champions, but one of them was representing a school which already had a champion!

"Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman," said Fleur with a smile and another toss of her hair.

"Joke?" Bagman parroted. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Fleur frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young…as is she."

She pointed to me, Bagman's gaze falling to curiosity before shrugging it off and simply saying, "Well…it is amazing. But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name — and her's — have come out of the goblet…Well, there can't be any ducking out at this stage. It's down in the rules, you're obliged…Harry and Demetria will just have to do the best they —"

The door to the chamber opened once more, this time bringing forth a much larger group. Literally, that Madame Maxime giant counted for at least three extra professors. But besides her there was also Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, and two professors I assumed were Hogwarts staff. The woman appeared older, her hair drawn back into a tight bun with square spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. The man was sallow-skinned with curtains of greasy, jet-black hair and — Son of a banshee, that was Severus Snape!

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zese two children are to compete!"

_Children?_ Who did she think she was calling a child? I was fourteen! In some countries, I could've been considered well into woman-hood.

Madame Maxime, when straightening up at full height, her head brushed the candle-filled chandelier.

Did I say three professors? I meant thirty-three…

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she imperiously asked.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," came Karkaroff, his eyes resting upon mine. And though I attempted to find some sort of emotion, any sort of give-away in his eyes, they were as cold and unmoving as ever, like two blue shards of ice. But then, he finally turned to face Dumbledore himself. "_Two _Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He issued a short but nasty snicker.

Godric, I could only imagine what sort of punishment from him I'd receive once we were back on the ship. After all, I'd taken away the champion title from his precious Vicky.

"_C'est impossible_," came Madame Maxime. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions, and Durmstrang cannot 'ave an underaged champion! It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep our younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff once again, this time his cold orbs remaining on me. "No matter how skilled or talented they may be…" and then it had returned to Dumbledore just like that. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape softly intervened. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break the rules. As for Harris —"

"I did not enter my name," I told him firmly, though one glance of malice and I was ignored.

"Neither did I," Harry admitted.

Dumbledore was now looking down at the pair of us, the expression of his eyes behind those half-moon spectacles practically unreadable. "Did either of you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" he asked us.

"No," we both clarified.

"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"They could not have crossed the Age Line," the square-spectacled professor spoke sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz zee line," Madame Maxime insisted with a shrug.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said politely.

"You didn't…!" leapt from my mouth before I could think to stop it. "…er, Professor Dumbledore, sir." I thought back to the way Fred and George had been hurled across the entrance hall. There was no way in hell Dumbledore had made a mistake with that Age Line.

"Stay out of this, Demetria," Karkaroff instructed softly. And just because I was undoubtedly already in deep enough with him as it was, I silenced myself.

"She _is _right, Albus," said the woman professor angrily. "You know perfectly well you did not make a mistake. Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, nor could Demetria, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

She shot a positively livid glare toward Snape. Thank Merlin for this woman!

"Mr. Crouch…Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff. "you are our — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman, who'd been wiping his round face with a hankerchief, turned to Crouch who stood just outside the circle of firelight, half of his face submerged in shadow.

"We must follow the rules," he said after a moment. "and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman as though that had just solved the issue.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff said gravely. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Bagman explained. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out and won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff had finally exploded. It was only a matter of time what with the way he'd practically been speaking as though he were a ticking time bomb. "After all of our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

_Great! Because, quite frankly, dying wasn't on my to-do-list until about age ninety!_

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a somewhat familiar voice from near the chamber's entrance. "You can't leave your champion now. She's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Mad-Eye Moody had just entered the room, limping toward the fire. With every step he took, a loud wooden _clunk _was emitted.

"Convenient?" parroted Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" asked Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name into the goblet knowing they'd have to compete if they came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime chimed in once again.

"I quite agree," said Karkaroff upon bowing to the giant headmistress. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic _and _the International Confederation of Wizards —"

"Then how do you explain your own champion's name being submitted?" challenged Moody.

"Zey could assure the win for 'Ogwarts if zey took out ze intimidating young boys of Durmstrang and made zeir champion a young girl —" Madame Maxime easily replied.

"No student of mine makes for an easy target!" Karkaroff had so quickly turned on the giant woman, his hand now encouraging resting on my shoulder. "Especially not young Harris here. She is one of the top students at —" Realization struck Karkaroff, Moody's point having been proven correct. After all, if I didn't make for Hogwarts's easy win, my name had to have been submitted for another reason.

"Are you suggesting someone submitted our names in hopes that we'd…die?" I really should have been keeping my mouth shut as Karkaroff had previously wanted, but he seemed just as interested in Moody's answer as I was to reprimand me this time.

But Moody never replied. Instead, Bagman's voice cut through the extremely tense silence. "Moody, old man…what a thing to say!"

"I didn't say it," Moody pointed out. "Young Harris did."

But even if Karkaroff did believe the theory for a moment, he certainly put a different spin on things now. "We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," he said loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put Potter's name in that goblet. Could've been anyone putting Harris's name in. Anyone who wanted them gone."

The first person my mind rushed to was Nikolai Pavel. But he couldn't have hated me _that _much…could he?

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object into thinking there were four schools competing!" Moody explained. "It would have taken an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…"

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," Karkaroff skeptically voiced my exact thoughts. "and a very ingenious theory it is."

"It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember…"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore warned. I'd almost forgotten that was Mad-Eye's real first name. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament just as Demetria has. This, therefore, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

And though he'd waited, she responded with nothing but a glare, though she wasn't alone. Snape was looking rather furious and Karkaroff was simply livid. Bagman, on the other hand, couldn't have appeared more excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he asked, beaming. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

"Yes," said Crouch as though just coming out of a deep reverie. "instructions. Yes…the first task… The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

He then turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," confirmed Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," he insisted. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment…I've left young Weatherby in charge…Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" prodded Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

_The man said no, can we leave now? _I longed to say aloud. _Apparently, I'll have to start writing my will first thing._

And with that (or whatever I'd just missed), Madame Maxime had taken Fleur by the shoulders and was leading her out of the chamber, both engaged in a rather fast French conversation. And had I known more Norwegian or had Karkaroff known more Bulgarian, we'd have been doing the same thing when we finally exited the room ourselves. But even once we were the only ones making our way through the deserted Great Hall, he still didn't utter a single word to me. Honestly, I would have preferred his scolding over his silence. It only caused the tension to thicken. But perhaps that was simply his way of having me suffer.

Either way, it gave me quite a bit of time to process all of this. The reality of the dangers hadn't quite sunk in yet, but the possibility that someone may have wanted me killed did. Though that couldn't have been true, for the only true enemy of mine who could have possibly entered my name in was Nikolai, and even _I _didn't hate _him _that much. It wasn't until Karkaroff and I had reached the docks that he spoke.

"Demetria." My name simply hung in the night air for a moment, a silence that seemed to last forever lingering.

"Yes, sir?" I prodded, though he still hesitated to respond.

"Just between the two of us…did you a — ?"

"I asked absolutely no one to enter my name for me," I told him honestly. He looked down at me as though searching for another answer in my eyes. "You know me, Professor — never really been one for death at a young age."

That brought not a smile upon his lips, but a smile to his eyes. "And you know _me_, Demetria — never really been one for watching one of my favorite students die at a young age," he told me whimsically, the grin still absent. "But I know I won't have to worry about that. You may be younger…but I know how strong you are…the skills you possess…You are the best in your year, one of the best in all. Not only will you survive…but you will _win_. You must prove yourself out there, Demetria… You must show everyone what you are capable of."

After I'd taken in Karkaroff's speech, having been so surprised that he didn't scold me or even yell, I felt there was something I had to ask him. "Professor?" He nodded for me to continue. "Aren't you…disappointed…that it's not Viktor?"

But rather than respond, he instead told me, "I will go in first and calm the others. They are undoubtedly in an uproar of sorts over your being chosen." And with that, he'd risen up the plank and climbed aboard the ship. Sure enough, I could hear shouts issuing from the cabins below deck.

So I _had _disappointed Karkaroff. Then again, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to me since he practically treated Viktor as his superior. But he was right about one thing, certainly — I would have to prove myself if I planned on winning the tournament. Come the first task, I would have to show them all what I was capable of, and despite my age, size, and possibly even gender, I would become the others' greatest threat — "Demetria!" — no matter what.

I made my way up the plank but before climbing aboard the ship, Karkaroff stopped me from just over the railing. "You are just as good a representation of this school as Viktor would have been," he told me genuinely. "Perhaps…even better."

I smiled gratefully, which he mirrored, as I swung my legs over the rail and landed on the wooden deck with a soft _thud_. Karkaroff and I headed in the same direction until parting at the doors of his private cabin, he disappearing behind them and I making my way below deck. There, the small staircase led me down into the ship's lantern-lit bowels, a collection of my fellow students practically attacking me once I'd reached our array of bunk-beds and cots. Mostly, though, there was a chorus of my name.

"Demetria! How ver you able to enter your name?"

"I didn't."

"Who put it in for you?"

"No one."

"How did you trick the Age Line?"

"I didn't!"

"It should have been me." Despite all of the commotion and the shouts, my ears easily detected the hushed comment of Nikolai Pavel. It silenced all other voices, everyone — myself especially — now looking toward Nikolai from the corner of the space.

"Well obviously it couldn't've been you, considering you put my name in." No, I didn't know it for a fact, but he was the only suspect I had at that point. But either Nikolai was incredibly good at hiding the fact that he did do it, or he just truly didn't, because he gave nothing away. His facial expression, his eye expression, his voice, his movements — it all remained smooth.

"Listen, _Princess_," he spat in his stride over to me. "if there is a thousand Galleons prize money on the line vith a life of eternal glory, you had better understand that I vant _no one's _name submitted but my own."

"Well, that's the only way you'd be chosen, Pavel," retorted Finn upon cutting through the small assembly. I had to admit that it was sort of a surprise to see Finn of all people jump in and defend me, but Viktor had actually chimed in next.

"Anderson has a point," he agreed. "You see, the Goblet of Fire chooses the name of the von most vorthy of competing, which last time I checked…vas not you."

Snickers and cheers were passed along through the circle of blokes, though Nikolai didn't appear fazed in the slightest. Instead, he was quick to shoot back an insult at Viktor. "Who are you to talk, Krum?" he challenged. "I didn't exactly see _your _name being shot out of the goblet."

"That is because I am not the best," said Viktor simply.

"But you're better than I am," I dropped my voice and spoke to him and him only. But evidently, it was still loud enough for Grigor to join forces…though not at all with the right side.

"Clearly he isn't if you managed to cross an Age Line made by Albus Dumbledore," Grigor bitterly seethed.

At first, I simply had no words. I just stood there like a fool caught off guard with my lips slightly parted. One of my oldest and best friends didn't even believe me… _Grigor _didn't believe me… Luckily, Finn and Viktor both quickly cleared out the crowd, the blokes all going to rest in their bunk-beds. Grigor then made his way angrily stomping up the stairs back on deck and Finn, Viktor, and I all followed.

"What was that, Grig?" I demanded.

"Vhat was vhat, _Dem_?" he mimicked. Grigor's tone cut like a knife through the chilling evening air.

"You know damn well what!" I indignantly told him, despite both Finn and Viktor's attempts at quieting me so Karkaroff wouldn't wake. "Taking Nikolai's side over mine? The friend who's been there for you since _he _planted Dungbombs in every single one of your clothes' pockets in your second year?"

"Yes, vell clearly things such as that do not matter to you anymore, considering you never mentioned to me — not vonce — that you ver entering!" argued Grigor. "You even lied and told me you didn't vant to! But you knew how much I vanted this — to be Durmstrang's champion!"

"I don't want it!" I yelled in what felt like my final attempt at getting through to him. "I never wanted it! If I could just hand the title over to you, I would! But I can't! I never put my name in! I never told anyone to put my name in!"

Grigor looked as though he might finally believe me, as though he may finally have smiled and apologized and embraced me in one of his bone-crushing hugs. His expression of stone was softening, all anger melting away from those big, blue orbs of his, until it all had flowed back into place. And just before stomping past me, deliberately colliding his shoulder with mine, his words hung in the air with the same acid tone as before.

"You had better be getting your sleep, Princess. Vouldn't vant you tired for your undoubted photo shoot tomorrow morning."

It numbed me from the insides out, or had that just been the icy chills of the evening? Either way, I'd just lost one of the few people who probably would have believed me when I said I absolutely did _not _put my name in the goblet.

:.:.:

The following morning, seeing as how there were no photo shoots as Grigor had mentioned, all I'd wanted to do was sleep. And so, considering it was a Sunday with no classes to worry about, that was exactly what I'd done. I'd actually practically slept the entire day away, for by the time I decided to rise, I'd made my way above deck and was revealed to an impending sunset. Not even having bothered to dress in any sort of Durmstrang uniform, I'd simply traded my plaid boxer shorts for a pair of leggings but left on the grey, long-sleeved Bulgaria shirt, it's sleeves hanging an extra two inches off my arms. And last but not least, my black combat boots had been laced up by the time I'd descended down the plank.

Upon making my way to the castle, I'd ducked my head into the Great Hall to find everyone already enjoying dessert. That was rather unfortunate, considering I truly was hungry. But all of a sudden, I was focused on something entirely different, for there came a voice in my ear whispering, "Who're you spying on?"

My heart skyrocketed out of my chest for a brief moment until I'd whipped around and found the cause of my heart attack to be non-other than George Weasley, Fred naturally at his side.

"Sorry I startled you, love," George apologized with a charming, yet mischievously lop-sided, grin. I'd taken a step away from the Hall's entrance to remain unseen and the twins had taken that same step to stand in front of me.

"Or should we say…_Princess_?" Fred teased. I took another side-step, but they'd mirrored my action.

"_Or _should we say…_Demetria Harris_?"

Upon hearing that, it had taken a moment of realization to remind myself that they'd seen me the previous night when my name was called out for champion. Ugh, champion. I'd been so very close to genuinely forgetting all about that. Well, at least they didn't seem to be connecting any dots with my name…

"That's right, _Demetria_ —" said George in reference to my widened eyes.

"— Durmstrang champion," came Fred. "By the way —"

"— Congratulations," they both chorused.

"Didn't know you were of age," George admitted.

And though I'd opened my mouth to speak, I caught myself and simply shook my head. It was true that I no longer truly needed to pretend I couldn't speak English, but it certainly was rather amusing.

"You're not of age?" Fred inquired. I shook my head a second time. "So you got past the Age Line just like Harry!"

He beamed like a proud parent, but I simply turned to leave. It was stressful enough trying to convince people I hadn't put my name in when I could speak. I was certainly not about to attempt that explanation without words. But Fred and George both stopped me as I figured they would, blocking me every way I turned.

"Don't worry," George advised. "We believe you didn't put your name in."

I could feel my gaze actually soften as it rested upon the two of them. The corners of my mouth even raised in a small smile.

"Bulgaria, eh?" Fred commented, eyes scanning the red letters across my shirt. At least…that was what his eyes had _better _have been scanning… "Seems we know who _you_ were rooting for at the Cup."

The Quidditch World Cup… Really? He was going to bring that up too? Would this bloke stop at nothing to ruin my evening?

"Speaking of," began George. "how's your leg?" And so rather than tell him, I showed him by rolling up the leggings on the correct leg until the scar from the gash was visible. "Arms?" I rolled down the leggings and pushed up my sleeves, stretching my arms out for him to survey.

"Breasts?" It was Fred's crude comment which caused me to pull the sleeves back down and attempt to maneuver past them again, but to no avail. "Sorry, sorry! Only joking!" he defended.

"Are you hungry?" George looked to me as though he already knew my answer, but I still gave a fervent nod. "Well then you'll have to say so."

"Sigurno se sheguvate," I mumbled under my breath, frustrated. **(**_**You must be kidding**_**) **And that time, I'd actually successfully glided past them and began making my way down the corridor until one of them called out to me.

It was George. "We never told you how to get into the kitchens, love!" he said in a sing-song way.

I stopped dead in my tracks and released a long sigh of defeat. George was, unfortunately, right. So upon turning, I reluctantly proceeded toward the twins, only to make my way out onto the grounds. They called out their chorus of "Goodnight, Demetria" as I continued toward the docks with an empty stomach. And no sooner had I climbed aboard the ship than did the rest of the Durmstrang lot begin their own march across the grounds. So to avoid their questioning of my whereabouts that day, I simply retired to my bunk-bed and feigned sleep until I truly did fall into a genuine slumber. But every now and again, a fierce growl from my stomach would awaken me until I finally couldn't take it any longer.

Clad in my plaid boxer shorts and still my long-sleeved Bulgaria Quidditch shirt, I simply slid on a pair of Viktor's thick, wooly socks to act as slippers so I could sneak about the castle. I'd casted "_Lumos!_" to ignite the tip of my wand and silently crept off the ship and across the grounds. But once I'd actually entered the castle, I'd nearly had another heart attack given by the same two troublesome people.

"Boo," George whispered.

"Son of a — !" Well, that cat was out of the bag. And by the light of Fred and George's wands (because I'd dropped mine), I could see the smirks plastered across their faces. I bent down to retrieve my glowing wand. "All right, fine, you caught me — I'm British, I speak English, there."

"Actually, we already knew that," Fred admitted.

I shot back up, wand in hand. "How?"

"Lee told us," they chorused.

"That little —"

"Easy, love," George soothed. "According to him, you had him promise not to tell Fred _and _George…"

"So he told Fred _or _George," pointed out Fred. "In which case, it was George, being that you're all he's been talking about since the Quidditch World Cup."

George had then smacked his twin upside the head with a rolled up piece of parchment. And though I wasn't entirely sure, by the glow of _Lumos_, I thought I detected a slight rise of color to George's ears.

"Wait a minute," I said. "How did you _gits _know I'd be here?"

"_Gits_?" parroted Fred, hand over his heart and feigning offense. "Would we be _gits _if I told you we'd been waiting here because we knew you'd be hungry and planned on taking you down to the kitchens?"

I had to admit, that was incredibly nice of them, but — "Why didn't you just take me down to the kitchens earlier then?" I wasn't angry nor accusing, just curious.

"Because earlier you weren't speaking to us —" defended George.

"— let alone in English."

"Besides…"

They both simultaneously finished with: "It's more fun when it's after hours."

But their sly grins had quickly snapped into alert expressions upon hearing the sound of footsteps. George then urgently unrolled the parchment and brought his wand tip to it and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" and I watched as ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the wand's point. They joined eachother, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment until words began to blossom across the top, curly green words that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

I didn't get a very good look at the inside though, considering George had opened it and was quickly scanning it. And soon after, he had folded it back over and had pressingly said, "Filch is headed this way."

"C'mon then!" urged Fred in a hushed tone.

He took off first, George taking me by the wrist and moving me along with him. All three of us kept our wands out to light the way and George had handed off the Marauder's Map to Fred, being that his hand was busy nearly holding mine.

"Who's Filch?" I quietly asked. "And what's the Marauder's Map?" And though we continued to speed along down the corridor, George still responded.

"Argus Filch is the caretaker here —"

"— a right creepy old geezer," added Fred.

"And the Marauder's Map is…Well, that's a longer story."

"Then give me the short version," I insisted, George then freeing my wrist and clamping his hand over my mouth. We'd stopped running and Fred had checked the map again.

"_Shite_," he swore. "In here, lights out!"

Once I'd shoved George's hand away, we'd followed his brother and ducked into a bit of a narrow little cove. "_Nox!_" We'd all whispered. And though I wasn't entirely sure what we were waiting for, I figured it had happened once the footsteps I assumed were Argus Filch's had come close and then turned back the way he'd came.

"_Lumos!_" said Fred, wand pointed at the map. "Almost gone…"

"Fred, is that _your _hand?" asked George.

"Hm?" Fred mumbled.

Shite, it was mine! I immediately snatched away the hand that was brushing against George's…erm, arse… Oh, it was an accident! The cove was only so big, you know!

"Very saucy, Princess," purred George. I slapped his arm and stepped out of the cove, both blokes following my action.

"It was an accident," I insisted, following Fred as he proceeded down the corridor.

"If you two love-birds can't keep your hands to yourselves —" Fred began to threaten.

"What's the Marauder's Map?" I asked again, mainly just to change the subject.

"Basically it was created by Harry Potter's father and his mates to show everyone in the castle —" George began.

"— and everything they were doing —"

"— every minute —"

"— of every day."

"We knicked it from Filch's office first year —"

"— gave it to Harry fifth year —"

"— but borrowed it for this evening just in case Filch showed up —"

"— which he did."

"Must you two switch off your sentences like that?" I asked.

"You'll get used to it," they chorused.

Fred then brought his wand back to the map and said, "Mischief managed" causing the map's contents to dissolve. He then raised his wand to ignite the huge portrait of fruit we know stood in front of. I watched in curiosity as he reached his hand out and tickled the football-sized pear, causing a doorknob to appear.

"Ladies first, your majesty," said Fred, both he and George bowing.

I rolled my eyes but stepped through the door he'd opened for me, revealing an enormous room identical to the Great Hall in more ways than one. Four lines of tables lined the room, copper pots and pans almost making the walls glimmer, with what had to be hundreds of house-elves scurrying about, reminding me of my own house-elf back home at Harris Manor — Tinker.

"Masters Fred and George!" squaked a small, and somehow familiar, voice upon the twins' step in front of me.

"Hey, Dobby!" greeted the boys.

Dobby? I moved past them and, sure enough, standing before me now was unmistakably the very same tennis ball-eyed elf that I'd seen running about Malfoy Manor a few years prior. To see him now safe from the abuse of Lucius Malfoy was a truly comforting sight to behold.

"Dobby, we'd like for you to meet —" But introductions between us were not necessary, which George had learned upon Dobby's cutting him off.

"Miss Demetria!" Dobby excitedly cried, wrapping his little arms around my waist.

"Hello there, Dobby," I returned, affectionately ruffing what little amount of hair he had atop his head. "How're you doing?"

"Dobby is doing very well, very well indeed!" he told me. "Can Dobby get you anything, miss?"

After a moment of musing, I told him politely, "A chicken and ham sandwich with a glass of pumpkin juice, if you don't mind, Dobby."

"Not at all!" he insisted, beaming, before turning to the twins. "For Masters Fred and George?"

They still appeared rather taken back, but Fred still replied with, "Pumpkin juice also", George then adding, "Make it three." And so with that, Dobby had scurried off deep into the kitchens, the twins following me as I made my way toward one of the long tables. I sat down at the one which would have been Slytherin had we been up in the Great Hall, simply out of habit. That was when the blokes plopped down at what would be the Gryffindor table, grinning over at me.

"Really?" I asked them, though bearing a smile of my own.

"Sorry, love," said George. "We've just been sorted into Gryffindor."

Catching on to their game, I stood up and told them, "I just transferred to Hogwarts and haven't been sorted yet."

"Ah, not to worry," Fred assured me, both he and his brother now standing also. "We can help with that."

He swiftly made his way over and took me by the hand to the back of the kitchens, the front of the tables. George then appeared at my side with a fair-sized copper pot in hand. But before I could ask what it was for, he'd gently placed it over my head, my laughter echoing from within it as it narrowed my vision to slits.

"What is this?"

"Why the Sorting Hat, of course!" replied George. "So let the Sorting begin!"

Fred had leaned in and began whispering in my pot-covered ear in a voice that must have mimicked the Sorting Hat. "Hmm… certainly got Ravenclaw, you are in no way smart enough…"

"I beg your pardon!" I said half-offended yet half-amused.

"Oh, very saucy, I see…"

"She touched my arse before, Sorting Hat!" George called out.

"That was an accident!" I told him yet again.

"That will certainly count towards which House you are sorted into," Fred told me seriously, though I could envision the grin upon his face. "Wait, what's this? I see a great deal of bravery…and loyalty…Why, you've even been messing around with those devilishly handsome Weasley twins — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Removing the pot from my head, Fred began clapping his hand against it whilst George, seated at what would be the Gryffindor table, also applauded. Fred and I then went to join him, I sitting across from the pair of them.

"Congratulations on making it into Gryffindor!" praised George, extending his hand; we briefly shook. "I'm George Weasley —"

"— and I'm Fred Weasley." Fred and I shook next.

"I'm Demetria Harris," I 'introduced'. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

In that moment, Dobby had arrived before our table, placing down our orders. "Dobby thinks you would make a wonderful Gryffindor, Miss Demetria!" He beamed.

"Thank you, Dobby," I told him. But all at once, the grin had snapped like a rubber band into a hard line. Me — a Gryffindor? I couldn't possibly… What would Grandad — No, what would my _parents _think? They'd been Slytherins…Death Eaters. It had been so long since I'd remembered there was a path expected of me that I must walk. Talk about dampening the mood.

"Something wrong, Demetria?" inquired George sincerely.

I put my smile back in place and assured him, "No, nothing."

"Then in _that _case…" Fred began, raising his glass. "Here's to Gryffindor!"

"To Gryffindor!" The three of us clanked our glasses together before taking a swig of pumpkin juice, though my cheer was not nearly as enthusiastic.

From the first bite of my sandwich to the last, Fred and George had talked my ear off about the joke shop business they hoped to start once they'd finished school. They told me all about how they'd won a bet on the Quidditch World Cup with Ludo Bagman, but he'd been refusing to pay up…or even answer them at all. They also told me about their siblings and their parents, though really just in passing. It wasn't until we'd all finished our beverages that they asked of my own family.

Every trace of my smile had disappeared, the boys quickly observing that they'd struck a nerve. "Er, sorry," Fred awkwardly apologized. "We didn't mean —"

"No, I know," I assured him. And after a moment, I decided to break the silence, though I told not the entire truth. "They died when I was only a year old… I don't know what happened exactly. The only family I really know of is my grandad. I live with him out in Wiltshire."

"So if you live in England, why do you go to Durmstrang?" asked George carefully.

I shrugged. "Because that was where he went and he wants me to…follow in his footsteps. So he also doesn't want me becoming a huge Quidditch star like my father… He says I should do something more _useful _with the other skills I possess."

"Quidditch star?" parroted Fred; I nodded. "You don't mean — Your father wasn't —"

"Aiden Harris, world famous Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados," I finished proudly.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, dumbfounded. "That's — He was — You must be _incredible_!"

"I've inherited his skills," I told him simply and with a grin.

"You'll have to play with us sometime," said George. "We're Beaters."

"We always get a game or two going back at the Burrow," Fred shared. The Burrow, as they'd told me, was what they nicknamed their home.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "You're on then."

"Ace!" Fred commented. "Oh, and you should tell your grandad to piss off."

"_Fred_," George whispered warningly to his brother; he didn't listen.

"No seriously, Georgie," he said before turning his attention back to me. "I mean you've got to do what you want, it's your life after all. Take us, for example: our mum would much rather us getting a ton of O.W.L.s and a respectable career like our brothers —"

"— but we're doing what we want, what makes us happy, just like you ought to," George chimed in.

"It's not that easy," I told them. It wasn't as though I hadn't thought of what they were telling me before.

"Look, just…think about it at the very least," Fred suggested. And before I could protest to tell him I had, he told me, "_Really _think about it." He then stood and began calling for Dobby to thank him. George and I rose from our seats then also, but he'd stopped me before I could stride over to Fred and Dobby.

"Yes, George?" I prodded him when he'd opened his mouth but failed to utter words.

"You've just got to be…true to yourself," he told me simply before breaking out in a smile. "And don't be afraid to let that heart of yours decide, Princess."

"Oi! Love birds!" called Fried from the front of the kitchens. George and I merely rolled our eyes and made our way over to him.

Yeah, maybe one day I _would _let this heart of mine decide…

:.:.:

For the rest of the week, being that Hogwarts classes were in session, my fellow classmates and I (and most likely those of Beauxbatons) had to keep ourselves entertained on our ship (and they in their carriage). The only time we were allowed to enter the castle — or even so much as leave the ship — was during meal times. But even then, it was all just appreciated as a change of scenery, at least for me it was. Not to say the food was bad, but the company wasn't anything special. Draco was usually always gawking over Viktor and Grigor still wasn't speaking to me, so that really only left me with Finn who I'd grown a great deal closer with. Well, Finn and a Slytherin sixth year by the name of Adrian Pucey. He was always trying to get involved in our conversation and Finn would always tease me about that Pucey bloke fancying me. It seemed he was right about that.

By the time Friday had arrived, we'd grown so incredibly sick of the bloody ship that a few blokes went to request permission to wander the grounds from Karkaroff. His reply had been: "If you are all having nothing to do, perhaps I should continue with lessons." That had ceased most complaints, though not all. But after lunch that day, was possibly the only time I'd felt thankful to be a champion. Just as people had begun exiting the Great Hall, a young Gryffindor girl had strode over to me at the Slytherin table. In fact, it was the red-headed girl from that night in the forest — probably Fred and George's sister.

"Hi, Demetria," she greeted brightly. "I don't know if you remember me —"

"Oh, I do," I assured her.

"— my name's Ginny Weasley," she introduced. "I'm s'posed to take you to meet with the other champions."

"Ace!" was my fervent reply. "D'you know how long it'll take?"

Ginny and I had commenced leaving the Hall side-by-side, I trying my best to ignore the daggers Grigor was sending me, Ginny then saying: "They didn't mention it," I followed her lead toward the steps to the entrance hall. "But they did mention taking photos."

"What d'they want them for?" I inquired. "Did they say?"

"The _Daily Prophet_," said Ginny as we stopped outside the closed door of the right room. "Well, this is it. Good luck in there."

I looked to her rather questioningly, but thanked her all the same. "Er, thanks... I'll see you around, Ginny."

"Considering you're all my brother can talk about, I'm sure you will," she laughed. "Or well, one of my brothers anyway."

"How many more brothers d'you have?" I asked, almost amused.

"Six in total — three at Hogwarts." She shrugged as though it were no big deal. To me it certainly wasn't. I could relate after all.

"I'd say that was a lot but it sort of feels like all of the Durmstrang blokes are _my _brothers," I shared with a small smile.

"Yeah, I'd say you've got me beat there," Ginny mirrored it. "Though I doubt none of them ever jinxed your bras to dance around the house."

I gave a genuine chuckle. "You'd be surprised."

Ginny and I had continued to laugh until Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory had appeared just moments later behind the two of us. We immediately silenced ourselves as the two other champions opened the door and passed through. Cedric offering me a smile as he went, Fleur surveying me as though I shouldn't have even been there. And honestly, I didn't blame her. But as she'd given a dramatic toss of her hair, Ginny had advised me:

"Don't let her get to you."

To which I replied, "I've got no reason to, it's just Phlegm — Oh, I mean Fleur."

Ginny gave one final laugh before I'd disappeared behind the door to the room just passed through by Cedric and _Phlegm_. It revealed a rather small classroom with most of the desks pushed away toward the back of it, so to leave a large space in the middle. Three desks, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Set up behind them were five chairs, Ludo Bagman occupying one of them and speaking with a witch in magenta robes — a witch I'd heard of but never seen for myself — Rita Skeeter.

"So, Demetria," began Cedric conversationally. Apparently he'd just stepped away from Fleur and whatever they'd briefly discussed, because I watched the smile on her face dissolve into a glare...towards me. "you're the only girl at Durmstrang?"

"Yeah, it's just me and a heap of testosterone-filled gorillas with accents," I told him seriously, though my comment did earn a few laughs. Fleur, of course, didn't laugh though. If anything, her frown only deepened. What the bloody hell did I ever do to this girl?

"Oh, that's funny — You're funny, Harris," praised Rita Skeeter as her two-inch crimson nails dug around her crocodile-skin handbag to retrieve a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment. But rather than write it down herself, she placed the tip of the quill in her mouth and sucked it for a moment before telling it: "Make sure you get that."

The quill sprang to life and began scribbling down what was apparently my funny remark on the parchment. And despite my attention being turned back to Cedric to continue our conversation, Rita Skeeter had begun launching questions of her own at me.

"So, Demetria — Can I call you Dem?" But she didn't wait for my reply as she continued on. "— how does it feel to be the only girl competing in this year's Triwizard Tournament?"

"What am I zen?" Fleur scoffed, her expression that of insult.

"Oh, right…" said Rita Skeeter, apparently just noticing Fleur for the first time. She then told her quill, "Scratch that. Dem, how does it feel to be chosen as the Durmstrang champion out of a group of all boys? When you submitted your name did you honestly think you'd be chosen?"

"I didn't put my name in," I told her simply. But I knew she'd try to get some sort of answer out of me.

"We can continue this interview in private if you'd rather not say it in front of the others," she whispered to me.

"I've nothing to hide," I told her. "because I truly did not put my name in the goblet."

"I wonder when you will finally give up on zat lie," said Fleur sharply.

"Actually, Fleur," I countered, keeping my irritation in check. "I don't intend on giving up on it because it's the truth."

"Oh please," she said. "You and zat ozar boy 'ave cheated some'ow."

"Harry and I didn't cheat." My anger was beginning to seep through into my tone. Luckily though, Cedric had stepped in.

"You and 'Arry 'ave — !"

"Give it a rest, Fleur," Cedric ordered her, though completely calm. "Demetria and Harry didn't put their names in."

Thank Godric for Cedric Diggory or I surely would have ripped the veela hair right out of pretty ickle Fleur's head. And as an added distraction, Harry Potter had just walked through the door which was beneficial in more ways than one, for Rita Skeeter had found new prey. I just felt a twinge of pity for Harry, the poor bloke unaware of how quickly a hunter such as Rita Skeeter would pounce. Although, the first person to pounce on Harry was actually Bagman.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're our most important tools in the tasks ahead," Bagman explained airily. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot."

A sort of weight could be felt on my chest upon hearing the words _photo shoot_. It pained me to recall Grigor's last words to me, but they came rushing immediately:

_ "...Vouldn't vant you tired for your undoubted photo shoot tomorrow morning."_

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" I couldn't tell who Rita Skeeter was speaking to, being that her eyes were fixated on Harry, but I assumed it was Bagman. "The extra champion, you know...to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman couldn't have cried it out loud enough. "That is — if Harry has no objection?"

"Er —" was all Harry had uttered before Rita Skeeter took that as his affirmation. And in a second, she'd gripped Harry's arm and taken him through a nearby door.

"What about Cedric and I?" Fleur asked Bagman, outraged. "Are we not important enough to be interviewed?"

"Are you mad?" I dared to ask her. "That woman's a nightmare. Who in their right minds would _want _to be interviewed by her?"

Fleur's expression had gone sour as she turned to face me. "I just zink it is only fair to include all champions…especially since we are of age."

It was evident Fleur and I could not control ourselves. Whenever one set of claws was put away, the other's came out. This half-breed was too sodding impossible to deal with. So I turned to Bagman and asked him, "Can I leave?" Because truthfully, the remainder of my day on that ship was sounding better and better with each passing minute.

But Bagman just gave a laugh and told me, "I'm afraid not, Demetria. But not to worry, the interview will only take a moment."

"But perhaps if we are all ready now…?" Albus Dumbledore seemed to appear out of thin air with an old, pale-eyed wizard standing at his side. "We could begin?"

"Yes, of course!" Bagman told him cheerfully.

And so Dumbledore went to fetch Harry from…well, wherever that door led…and taking their seats at the judges' table were Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman. Harry appeared thrilled to be rid of that woman as he'd hurried back into the room, Rita Skeeter trailing behind. Myself and the rest of the champions were instructed to take a seat in a chair by the door, Rita plopping herself down in a corner with her quill at the ready. Fleur and I had each occupied an end seat to be as far from one another as possible at that time, and Cedric had taken the seat next to mine. Harry came over lastly and was stuck beside Fleur…tough luck.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and gesturing to the old wizard. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

The old wizard, his pale eyes shining like moons, stepped into the empty space in the middle of the room. "Mademoiselle Delacour," he said. "could we have you first, please?"

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. "Yes, nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…"

"'An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," supplied Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes," said Ollivander. "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Why shouldn't it? Fleur was temperamental herself.

Ollivander then continued to run his fingers along the wand before muttering, "_Orchideous!_" and a bunch of flowers had burst from the wand's tip. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order. Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur collected the flowers which Ollivander had handed to her, gliding back to her seat and smiling flirtatiously at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander enthusiastically said upon receiving Cedric's wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches…ash…pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition… You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric told him proudly.

Several gold sparks shot out of the end of Harry's wand from one seat over. I couldn't help but release a giggle at his desperate attempt at cleaning his wand with a fistful of robe. And though he gave me a sheepish grin, he didn't desist until he caught sight of Fleur's patronizing glance.

Ollivander had sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronouncing himself satisifed and then said, "Miss Harris, if you please."

I rose and retreived my wand from the inside of my combat boot, Cedric offering me a warm smile as we passed. I placed the wand into Ollivander's hands and he turned it all sorts of ways, examining it with a scrutinizing expression.

"Curious," he whispered before speaking directly to me. "Very curious that this wand would choose you, Miss Harris."

"What d'you mean?" I inquired. For never, not even when I'd first recieved the wand at eleven years old, was it ever thought to be _curious that it would choose me._

But Ollivander had ignored my question and instead asked me one of his own. "Tell me, who is it's maker?"

"My grandad's brother — my great uncle," I said. He'd died before I had the chance to meet him or at least to know him at an age that I could remember him. And though Grandad never really spoke of him (or any other family, for that matter) he'd told me all about his brother's wand-making. My wand had been one of the few left unsold when he'd passed away. I'd tried them all out but that was the one that chose me.

"Wand-maker Felix Harris?" clarified Ollivander; I nodded. His eyes then returned to examine the wand. "Ten and a quarter inches…ash… Tell me, Miss Harris…what do you know of Augureys?"

"Isn't it some sort of Phoenix?" I said after a moment. "Er, thin and mournful looking? Greenish-black feathers?" I could detect a single snicker from Fleur behind me.

Ollivander gave an odd sounding sort of chuckle. "Augureys are the phoenixes of Ireland, and were once associated with powerful, Dark wands. Their cries were thought to signify an upcoming death —"

"Do zey not sing when eet eez about to rain?" Fleur chimed in.

"That they do, Miss Delacour, that they do." Ollivander's eyes had never left mine, and that silly grin remained plastered across his face.

"Er," I absentmindedly shifted, feeling a tad uncomfortable. "so why exactly is this so curious?"

"You see…the tail feather of an Augurey has only ever been known to have been used in one wand — the very wand which has chosen you," Ollivander explained. "It had been thought that such a wand core would be fit for a Dark witch or wi —"

"I'm no Dark witch," I firmly protested, though my stomach churned upon remembering that was what Carlisle had expected of me…perhaps even my parents.

"Oh, I'm quite certain of that, Miss Harris," Ollivander assured me. "Which is why the current theory remains to be that this particular phoenix's tail feather would be found in the core of a wand belonging to one who is…shall we say…?" he racked his brain for a moment in order to conjure up the appropriate word. He finally settled upon: "misunderstood."

I still wasn't entirely sure how all of that was supposed to make me feel. But regardless, Ollivander had continued on with, "Yes, yes, _misunderstood_. For you see, the wand itself is interpretted all wrong. Many believe that because this wand core is so very rare, it possesses extraordinary powers. _But_, it is actually _meant _for one of extraordinary powers and abilities. Truly an example of brain over brawn this creation is, Miss Harris… _Avis!_"

My wand had let off a blast like that of a gun, a number of small, twittering birds shooting out the end of it. They soared through the open window and into the watery sunlight.

"Excellent," commented Ollivander upon handing my wand back to me. "Which leaves…Mr. Potter."

The dark brown wood in my hands felt almost as though I was receiving it for the first time all over again. I was now aware of the power it possessed…No wait, the power _I _possessed…with it. And though my eyes were practically glued to the wand, I managed to tear them up and away for a split second to shoot Harry an encouraging smile which he reflected. And then once Ollivander had finished examining Harry's wand, eventually shooting a fountain of wine out of it, Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Thank you all. You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end."

But just as we had all turned to leave, the man with the smoking black camera, whom I'd barely noticed, cleared his throat and reminded Bagman.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" he cried gleefully. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

Son of a banshee! I'd completely forgotten about her! No doubt she would be publishing some sort of twisted article on my wand. Spreading word all over Great Britain that I was some sort of _misunderstood Dark witch_. Oh yes, she'd certainly have a field day with that.

"Er — yes, let's do that first," said Rita Skeeter before her eyes had found Harry's. "And then perhaps individual shots." All right, honestly, if she was only interested in photos of Harry couldn't the rest of us have left? Apparently not.

The photographs had taken an exceptionally long time between Madame Maxime casting everyone into shadow, Karkaroff continuing to twirl his goatee, and the photographer and Rita having a silent argument over who should be in greater prominence. The photographer wanted Fleur and Rita, of course, wanted Harry. And after the brief separate shots of all champions, we were finally free to go. I'd practically burst out the doors and headed down for the Great Hall, but when I heard footsteps hasening to catch up with me I just prayed they weren't Rita's.

"Guess we really didn't need to be in the photos, eh?" It was Cedric.

"I was actually surprised she didn't just leave us in Madame Maxime's shadow," I agreed.

He chuckled, a smile spreading across his handsome — Er, did I say handsome? I meant, erm, anyway… It touched his bright grey eyes and — What was I saying again?

"Well, er, I'll see you," I told him upon reaching the Great Hall. And I hadn't even waited for his reply as I made a bee-line for the Slytherin table, for the last thing I needed was a distraction during this tournament…or even worse — a reason to stay at Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 4: The Dragon's Nest

_**Chapter Four**_

_The Dragon's Nest_

:.:.:

_Grandad_ —

_Sorry it's taken me this long to write. Things have just been a bit hectic around here what with the tournament and all. Hogwarts is incredible, by the way. But anyway, the goblet selected the three champions from each school about a week ago, and it turns out there were some exceptions which needed to be made. For starters, there are actually four champions._

_ Fleur Delacour is the Beauxbatons champion _—_ a stuck up half-veela. Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion, but there was also another chosen. Mad-Eye Moody believes someone charmed the goblet into thinking there were four schools because Harry Potter was chosen as the other Hogwarts champion. And as for Durmstrang...I'm the champion. But I didn't put my name in! Someone else must've!_

_ That being said, I reckon it's all beginning to sink in and I'm actually growing worried about the first task. It's only days away but it feels more like hours. I've absolutely no idea what I'll be up against come the 24th of November, and I wager that's what's got me so anxious... Oh well. Wish me luck, I suppose._

_ Oh, and another thing _— _How come you never told me how rare my wand core is? Did you know Great Uncle Felix made it with the tail feather of an Augurey? _

_ Well, that's it. So again, wish me luck._

— _Demetria_

Up in the Owlery of Hogwarts, I whistled for an owl to deliver my letter to Grandad. A fair-sized brown owl swooped in before me and I placed the envelope in between it's beak. "To Carlisle Harris," I told it, running a gentle hand down it's head in thanks. And so, mouth too pre-occupied to hoot, it merely blinked it's silver eyes in comprehension and took off out the window.

In days — _days _— I would be facing Merlin-knows-what in Merlin-knows-where and I couldn't stand it. I simply _had _to know what was was waiting for me for the first task.

I'd made my way down from the the Owlery tower and very quickly found myself amidst a sea of students bearing pins which read in luminous red letters:

SUPPORT **CEDRIC DIGGORY **—

THE **REAL **HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

I'd even passed by a particular group of Hogwarts students pressing said badges to their chests, only to have the message change and glow in green:

POTTER STINKS

Poor Harry. I honestly couldn't help feeling bad for him — having to put up with nearly his entire school turning on him, including his best friend and Fred and George's youngest brother Ron. Not to mention that rubbish Rita Skeeter had published ten days prior. Not only was it centered on Harry himself, but I was positive Rita had fabricated every one of Harry's interview 'answers'.

Speaking of, much to both my surprise and appreciation, Rita Skeeter hadn't published anything on my 'misunderstood' wand…yet, anyway. But back to Harry, and even the interview, I caught sight of him making his way down the corridor as numerous Slytherins shouted quotes from the article at him.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this — ?"

But I didn't even allow the speaker to finish, for I'd already called Harry's name from down the hall. "Hey — Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" he wheeled around and shouted out. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more…"

"Ace," I commented with a smirk upon nearing him. "We can cry over our dead mums together."

Color rose in Harry's face as his hand sheepishly reached for the back of his neck. "Er, right — Sorry…Demetria — I didn't know it was you."

"That's all right, Harry," I assured him. "Just wanted a quick word with you, if you can spare it?"

His hand dropped to his side, though he still appeared somewhat taken aback. "Yeah, sure — Of course," he said. So we disappeared from the sight of those taunting Slytherins around the corner, Harry seeming to have relaxed now. "What's up?"

"I don't mean to bring up a sore spot, and forgive me if this is too personal," I began, Harry growing a bit on edge once again upon hearing that. "but Fred and George told me about your fighting with Ron," He then appeared as though he wanted to be angry but, for whatever reason, he kept it in check. "I just wanted to say that…well, my being champion has caused the same problem between myself and a good friend of mine. He doesn't believe me, Ron doesn't believe you —"

"Neither does the rest of the school, unfortunately." A facial expression which had just begun to soften then hardened once again.

"Look, I know it's not really my place, but I just wanted to let you know that…we're on the same side here," I told him wholeheartedly. "And don't worry, Ron'll come around sooner or later. Not even your entire school can keep this up forever. So just — y'know — hang in there and don't let them get to you."

Finally, Harry had composed himself, all anger melting from those emerald green orbs. "Thanks…really," he said in a tone of surprise, offering me a small smile which I returned. "I'm sure your friend'll come around soon too."

I sighed. "Here's hoping." But just as I'd turned to make my way back down the corridor from which I'd just come, Harry had called out my name. I pivoted to face him. "Yeah?"

"You said you had a, um…" He took a moment to consider finishing before evidently deciding against it. "Er, forget it. I'll see you around, Demetria."

"Alright," I shrugged. "See you, Harry."

–

Sunday morning had absolutely nothing to offer, other than the building tension about the first task. And quite frankly, preparing myself to face the unknown wasn't exactly how I'd planned to spend it. Granted, I could have very well joined a great deal of the Hogwarts population in visiting the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, but I truly wasn't in the mood. Though if there were ever a time I would desperately need a bit of fun, that time was now…Finn didn't allow me to forget that as we sat among the Slytherins in the Great Hall for breakfast.

"C'mon, Dem," he attempted to coax. "The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, _Zonko's_… You know you love Zonko's…"

"Finn, I've already told you — I'm not going. If you want to go so badly, just take Viktor or someone before you wet yourself," I told him, only half-joking.

"Finn does 'ave a point though, Demetria," Viktor chimed in. "It vould be vise to get your mind off of this task and just relax."

"I do not need to relax, Vic," I firmly insisted. "And I wish you'd all stop telling me that!"

Suddenly, the glass of pumpkin juice Draco was about to drink from, shattered right before us. All three blokes turned to look at me, eyes narrowed skeptically. "You were saying…?" said Draco.

Burying my head in my hands, I took deep breaths in an attempt to compose myself. When I felt calmed, I lifted my head, gaze darting between the three of them. "See — I'm fine," I assured.

"Vhy, if it isn't the Durmstrang Champion descending from on high to mingle with the commoners," came Grigor's acidic tone as he passed with Nikolai. The latter came up behind me and shoved my face into the bowl of Pixie Puffs which, up until that point, hadn't served any purpose. Nikolai and Grigor both strode off snickering just before my composure was disturbed, resulting in revealing the pair's boxers. They whipped around, probably expecting to have seen me standing right behind them, but had clearly forgotten magic required no such movement.

The Great Hall began to notice the two of them and commenced laughter, which I would have done myself had it not been for my cereal-soaked face and both my irritation and stress levels through the Hall's enchanted ceiling. So instead, after wiping the cereal off, I stood from the bench and pushed past the two barmpots struggling to grasp their trousers. Never did I think I'd have to turn on Grigor like I did, but that git needed to come to his senses.

"Demetria!" called out a voice just as I'd exited the Great Hall. Upon pivoting, I found it to be…

"Oh hey, Cedric." Irritation now in check, I was able to greet the Hufflepuff with a small grin.

"Er, nice job back there," he commented, one hand snaking nervously around the back of his neck.

"Thanks, they deserved it," I told him, the two of us beginning to stroll down the corridor with no particular destination in mind. "So, you going to Hogsmeade today?"

"Actually, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about," he admitted, smiling sheepishly and dropping his hand to his side. "I was wondering if you'd…Well, if you'd fancy going with me…?"

I couldn't say I was completely surprised considering how nervous he was. From what I'd seen for myself, Cedric Diggory was hardly someone I'd deem that type. But regardless of how much I suddenly thought going to Hogsmeade was a good idea after all, I knew I couldn't go with Cedric. After all, I was beginning to stray from the path expected of me as it was. Surely an entire afternoon with someone like Diggory would knock me clear off of it.

"I'd love to, Cedric, but I can't," I was forced to tell him. "I already told a mate of mine I'd go with him."

But the crestfallen reply of Cedric was something I never did get the chance to hear, for who should appear out of the Hall but none other than Finn. He beamed as he made his way over, bright green eyes gleaming. "You've decided to go then?"

Well, it appeared I was going to Hogsmeade either way… "Yeah," I admitted.

"Ace!" commented Finn before catching sight of Cedric. "Hey, you're Cedric, right?"

"That's right — Cedric Diggory," he introduced, shaking Finn's hand briefly. "And you are…?"

"Finn Anderson," he supplied. "Pleased to meet you. Y'know, you're free to join us if you'd like."

Cedric seemed to look to me for approval to which I grinned in reply. There was clearly no avoiding this day spent with Diggory anyway. I might as well have encouraged it.

"I'd be honored," said Cedric, his smile directed towards me.

–

All right, so perhaps I _was _in need of a trip to Hogsmeade. The afternoon sky had arranged itself since morning and I found myself completely relaxed underneath it. Cedric, Finn, and I continued to wander through the picturesque little village of thatched cottages and shops, paying visit to whichever ones we passed. But as we stepped out of Honeydukes Sweetshop, I had just taken a bite of a Liquorice Wand when the November wind chill whipped against my face. And despite my hardly ever being cold, I released a shiver which Cedric noticed.

"Cold, Demetria?" he observed with concern, his hand already clutching his jacket's zipper.

I simply pulled my own jacket closer to my body and assured him, "That's alright, Cedric. I'm fine."

"Yeah, no worries, Ced," Finn chimed in, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "Norway's brought us colder days than this."

"Well, at least take this," Cedric insisted, unraveling the yellow and black striped scarf from around his neck. After he draped the Hufflepuff colors around my own neck, I smiled at him graciously. He returned it and we found ourselves simply standing there and, well…smiling.

"Butterbeer, anyone?" Finn thankfully interrupted; I eagerly nodded. "On second thought, we haven't even been to Zonko's yet!" Finn then took Cedric and walked directly behind me.

"Finn, what're you doing?" I questioned, attempting to turn around. He let me do no such thing.

"Shielding you," came his reply as though it were obvious.

But before I could inquire as to what exactly he was shielding me from, Cedric had told me after a quick glance around. "Rita Skeeter," he informed me.

And so regardless of Finn and Cedric's human shield, I pivoted and fell victim to curiosity. Sure enough, Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Speaking in low voices, they had just passed by that Hermione Granger without so much as a second glance to her. I then began to wonder why Hermione was in the village alone. She had to have friends, didn't she?

But unfortunately, curiosity killed the cat…Or well, got the attention of the twisted reporter, for Rita Skeeter was making a rather fierce bee-line right toward me. So pretending I didn't even see her, I innocently called out Hermione's name and ran to catch up with her, Finn and Cedric trailing behind.

"Hermione, there you are!" I called out for Rita's sake before dropping my voice lower for Hermione. "Just go with it, I don't want that woman bombarding me with her questions."

Hermione blinked her big brown eyes in understanding before calling out, "Demetria, you're late!" and then dropping her voice as well. "Yes well, she did make a right mess out of Harry's story, didn't she?"

"She's gone," said Finn from beside me. "Now, how about that butterbeer?" He and Cedric made for the entrance, whilst I stood back a moment with Hermione.

"Y'know, if you're not here with anyone, you could join us?" I invited.

She looked off to the side with a questioning look before turning back to face me. "Thank you, Demetria, but I'm s'posed to be meeting Ron and Harry here very soon."

"Have they made up?" I couldn't help but inquire.

"That's what I'm hoping to get them to do." She smiled.

"All right, well good luck." I mirrored her's before entering the pub myself. Finn and Cedric hadn't wandered far, still lingering close to the front door. So upon spotting me, we all went to hunt down a table in the crowded pub. Though it wasn't packed nearly enough for me to miss Ron already seated with Fred, George, and Lee. I considered going to tell Hermione, but she was probably still waiting for Harry anyway.

"It doesn't look as though we'll be finding a table of our own," Cedric observed.

"Well then why not with them?" I pointed to the spacey booth occupied by the three Weasleys and Lee.

"Ace," commented Finn who began making his way over. I followed, Cedric insisting on going to buy the drinks.

Ron appeared to be in the midst a dreadfully boring story until Finn and I appeared and brought a smile to the three other boys' faces. "Have room for three more?" I asked them.

"Absolutely!" was Fred's relieved response. He and the others shifted and I climbed in first, now seated between George and Finn. "So where's the third member of your party?"

"Or have you seriously miscounted?" teased George.

"He's getting our drinks," Finn explained.

"You're here with Pretty Boy then are you, Demetria?" asked Fred, reaching and tugging on my scarf in jest.

I unwrapped it from around my neck and placed it on the table. "Yes, _we're _here with _Cedric_," I corrected him, though maintaining a smile.

"What?" asked Ron, outraged. "Diggory? I refuse to sit with the enemy!"

"Now now, ickle Ronniekins," said George patronizingly. "don't go getting your boxers in a bunch."

"Besides, if anyone's going to be the enemy here," came Finn. "it's clearly Demetria."

"Well Demetria didn't turn the entire school against —"

Ron didn't even have to finish. We all knew who he meant. And though it wasn't my place, I found myself telling him, "Why don't you go make up with him, Ron?"

"Make out with him, you say?" Fred continued to joke, he and George now directing kissy faces at their younger brother.

"Er, am I interrupting something?" Cedric asked upon arriving, sliding three butterbeers on the table.

"Just Fred and George being tosspots," I informed him. "Nothing new."

They both stuck out their tongues at me and I returned the childish gesture. I was beginning to fit in all too dangerously well around here.

–

It was nearly midnight, the sun long gone and already tucked beneath the horizon line, but the Durmstrang blokes and I had decided to remain on deck that evening. Some played Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess, others merely engaged in conversation, and then there were a select few who were pitifully attempting to woo a few Beauxbatons birds in French. I, however, kept away from it all, the First Task having crept back into my mind. So I sat on the starboard railing, wrapping my arms around the knees I'd brought up close to my chest, and watched the pale moon reflect itself perfectly in the Black Lake. The waters were calm, humming a gentle lullaby against the ship as it swayed ever-so-slightly with the lake. It had actually began to soothe me despite the blokes' noise, until there came a sudden angry outburst à la Beauxbatons.

Bounding down from the railing, I made my way over to the port side and watched in amusement with the others as Nikolai and a few other blokes endured the girls' fierce, French scolding. But only when my eyes found Grigor down there among them did I feel any sort of remorse. When would he finally forgive me and realize I never put my name in, never wanted to be the school's champion? Would it take my bloody death in the tournament? Godric, I hoped not.

Finally, with Fleur predictably their ring leader, the girls' began marching toward their carriage, dramatically swishing their hair behind them as they went. The blokes, appearing both defeated and somewhat offended, made their way back on deck. And though normally I would be inclined to a snide comment regarding Nikolai's striking out I bit my tongue, for I was in no mood for what would then ensue. And though I was a bit surprised he didn't have anything to say to me as he passed, I was far more shocked that Grigor actually stood before me with regret pouring from those big brown orbs of his. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps even apologize, but it snapped into a hard line just as quickly, envy eating away at any trace of kindness in his eyes.

Turning to leave, he roughly collided with my shoulder and threw me off balance. I would have fallen had it not been for Viktor.

"Forgive him, Demi," said the Bulgarian Quidditch star wisely, one arm snaked around my waist. "There is no darkness, but ignorance."

Though at this point, one could hardly call it ignorance. Grigor knew I was right, he was just too prideful to admit his being a git and apologize. But I also knew it was only a matter of time before he came around…at least I hoped so anyway. Grigor was never one for giving up so easily.

"Oi, Princess!" And speaking of not giving up…

I looked back out over the port railing and Fred and George Weasley standing as close to the edge of land and lake as possible. "Well if it isn't the Ginger Mingers," I jested; their smirks, naturally, remained intact.

"Pet names already, love?" retorted George.

"At least take us on a proper date first," Fred joined in.

I looked to Viktor who appeared rather amused and rolled my eyes. "Can I help you with something, gents?" I called back out to them.

"Not this evening, no," replied Fred.

Naturally, George came next and said, "But _we_ can help _you _with something."

Knowing those two, it couldn't have been anything good, but my curiosity had gotten the best of me as I passed Viktor and made my way down the ramp and off the ship, the twins meeting me at the bottom.

"What're you two on about?" I immediately inquired.

George offered a lop-sided grin and asked as though he already knew: "Worried about the First Task?"

"Nothing to be worried about, Weasley." I kept up my rather convincing bluff, the lie so smooth in comparison to my skin chilling at the very mention of it.

"I dunno, Princess," cooed Fred. "People have died in the tournament, after all."

Confidence regained, I crossed my arms with my weight shifted to the right and clarified, "If you're referring to the incident in 1792, no Champion was actually killed. The three judges were simply injured."

"Oi, regardless…" began Fred, the smirk never faltering. "If _I _were Champion, I'd want to at least know what I'd be up against."

"Oh and I suppose _you _two could tell me?" I asked, slightly amused.

"We _could _tell you…" Fred looked to his twin.

"…_or_ we could show you." His baby blue eyes darted between myself and the Forbidden Forest.

No matter which I chose — ignoring the twins or not — neither would cure my anxiety. I would either scare myself with the endless possibilities of what the task would be, or I would be worried about what I actually knew it to be. So considering I was out of luck on that anyway, I couldn't find a reason to turn down their offer. Unless…

"Is this some sort of trick?" I couldn't help asking, as though I'd get a truthful response from them if it was.

"Come now, love," came Fred's smooth attempt at coaxing. "Though we may be what some would call '_trouble_'…"

"…there's no tricks when lives are on the line," said George wholeheartedly.

But I couldn't even summon a response to that, for I actually found myself lost in how sincere George Weasley could be. My expression must have still read disbelief because the twins both raised their hands to their hearts and simultaneously recited, "We solemnly swear it."

"Alright then," I'd decided, but then a second thought had dawned on me. "What's in it for you two?"

We started toward the forest, one twin per side of me, when Fred looked to me in mild amusement and asked, "Long way from home then, are you?"

"And what's that s'posed to mean?" I could sense the twins exchanging significant looks from either side of me, but my eyes remained fixed on the edge of the forest.

Fred began. "Well, if those Durmstrang blokes of yours are only willing to trade favors —"

"— allow Freddie and I to be your prime example of gentlemen." When I'd finally turned my head to show George my skeptical brow, he cut right to it. "Nothing's in it for us, love. Just here to help you."

"And spend this romantic, moon-lit evening with a pretty bird rather than the sad, red puppy dog who's been tailing us all day," added Fred with a playful wink, Ron being the puppy.

"So then where's this pretty bird of yours?" I teased, nudging Fred. "Seems to me she's stood you blokes up." The three of us stood before the Forbidden Forest now, not a spec of moonlight could be seen through it.

"Seems to me that you're right."

"At least we've still got you, Demetria," said George, joining in.

I laughed despite myself and the boys smiled, apparently pleased with themselves. "You blokes do know where you're going, don't you?" I asked as the three of us began to delve deeper into the forest.

"_Lumos Maxima_!" Fred called out, and the darkness which once swallowed us up was being pushed aside by a massive ball of light at the end of Fred's wand.

"'Course we do, Princess," George replied instead. "But I'd still recommend watching your step, for as we recall —"

His twin joined him in saying, "— forests are not your strong suit."

I was beginning to think I'd never hear the end of it — the incident at the World Cup, which was undoubtedly what they were referring to. But given the state they'd found me in — all cut up and bleeding and what have you — I suppose it made sense for them to worry. Although with everything lit up in front of us for about five feet, I'd say I was more than capable of navigating my way through and remaining unscathed.

"Oi, Georgie," Fred's whisper cut through what had once been nothing more than the sounds of our footsteps. "You don't reckon Hagrid'll be out here, d'you?"

"Hagrid?" I parroted curiously, and louder than intended.

Suddenly, a man's deep voice seemed to boom throughout the forest as he called out in an unfamiliar accent, "Who's there?"

Fred fiercely whispered "_Nox_!" And once our eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could make out the shapes of one another, he sarcastically teased, "A bit louder, Demetria. Don't think he quite got our location."

"Well who the bloody hell is he?" I demanded. "Or _what _is he?"

"Well now we know that Harry knows about the —"

But George had thrown his hand over his twin's mouth and began to speak instead, answering my question.

"He's the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts," he explained. "Half-giant."

"Is that…what I'm facing in the First Task?" I inquired almost sheepishly.

"If only, love," was George's genuinely saddened response.

"These groun's er off limits!" came the voice of Hagrid once again.

"I am sure eet eez nothing, 'Agrid," insisted the all-too-familiar voice of Madame Maxime. "Now tell me, 'ow much farzer?" But her question was answered just as mine was, for there came an unmistakable, earsplitting roar.

I turned to face the twins though I could hardly decode their expressions. "Why don't you go on ahead?" George suggested. "Just keep out of sight."

"See if you can find Harry," said Fred fervently.

And though confused I nodded, not that they could see it. But I moved as quickly and quietly as I could toward the two giant figures. So with my eyes stuck on them, I failed to notice whatever I then collided with in front of me, though even when I looked it appeared as though nothing were there.

"Demetria?" I heard someone say. It almost sounded like —

"Harry?" And no sooner had I said it, then did that very green-eyed and scarred face appear before me. Harry then stood and helped me to my feet, a silverish cloak of sorts held in his hands. "Is that an — ?"

"Invisibility Cloak, yeah," he replied, tossing it around the both of us. "It was my dad's. What're you doing here?"

"Fred and George Weasley said they could show me what we'd be facing in the First Task," I didn't even bother lying; another roar sounded just as deafening as the first. "And I'm hoping to Godric it's not that."

But I knew as well as Harry did that it was — whatever it was. And suddenly, a collection of bonfires were mirrored in those deep green orbs, and there came the reflection of men darting around them in those round spectacles. But I didn't turn around to see for myself until Harry's mouth fell open. And upon turning, I did the same.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons… _dragons_! They were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting with torrents of fire shooting into the dark sky. One of them, silvery-blue, had long, pointed horns and was snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground. I imagined it snapping its fanged mouth at me. Another, smooth-scaled and green, was writhing and stamping with all its might. I imagined myself underneath its giant feet. A third, red with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, shot mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. I imagined myself being shot into the sky along with them. And nearest to us stood a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others. I simply imagined this one swallowing me whole.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding to bound the beasts. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

Harry and I moved up a bit closer, the half-giant Hagrid, though large, still stood shorter than Madame Maxime. "Is'n' it beautiful?" he asked her softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!" Each of the dragon keepers pulled out their wands.

"_Stupefy_!" they shouted altogether, the spells shooting into the darkness like fiery rockets and then bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides. They continued to struggle to break lose of their bonds, but the wizards only tightened their grips on the chains.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid excitedly asked Madame Maxime. Her answer must have been a 'yes' because the pair moved right up to the fence, as did Harry and I. And stepping forward then was the red-headed wizard who'd called out to Hagrid before. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said was the older Weasley brother who was a dragon keeper. After all, that would explain how they knew about the dragons. What was his name again? Chuckie…Chester…Chad…Sheldon?

"All right, Hagrid?" Well whoever the sodding hell he was, he came panting over to Hagrid and Madame Maxime. "They should be okay now — we put them out with a Sleeping Draught on the way here, though it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet — but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all —"

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" Hagrid asked him. Charlie, of course! But had I really said Sheldon…?

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," said Charlie in reference to the closest dragon, the black one. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-grey — and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Just after Charlie's explanation, Madame Maxime was already strolling away along the edge of the enclosure, gazing upon the stunned dragons. Charlie chose this time to say, "I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid. The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming — she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

Oh, no doubt about that. I could just see the two of them squacking in French over it, probably sharing the information with every student in their ickle blue carriages.

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em." Hagrid shrugged his giant shoulders, though his eyes remained glazed over at the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie said, shaking his head.

But Hagrid simply ignored this comment and said, "Four… So it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do — fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I reckon," Charlie told him. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why…but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed at the Horntail's tail where long, bronze-colored spikes could be detected protruding along it every few inches. It sent a chill down my spine to think there was a chance I'd be up against that bloody beast come Sunday. Still speaking of it, five of the fellow keepers staggered up to the creature, carrying a clutch of huge granite-grey eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side and Hagrid released a sigh of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," said Charlie sternly before asking, "How's Harry?"

But Hagrid, still gazing at the eggs, only replied with, "Fine." I looked to Harry, his body already hardened like marble next to me, and saw the pool of worry in his eyes. And upon his turning to face me, we each swam in one another's.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot," Charlie said grimly. "I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him…" he then imitated who I would imagine to be Mrs. Weasley. "'_How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit! Not to mention now they've put Demetria's life in danger as well!_' Of course, Demetria Harris has more so been Remus's main worry. But Mum was in floods after that _Daily Prophet _article about Harry. '_He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!_'"

If it were up to me, I would've stayed to find out why Mrs. Weasley cared so much for me, how she already knew me, and who the hell Remus was. But apparently, Harry had had enough and I was forced to follow him as he jerked away and began to walk off.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly, dragons still on my brain. "What? Oh, right — It's fine."

"Just one question…" prodded Harry, the two of us having come to a halt.

"How d'you know Mrs. Weasley…and Remus Lupin?" he asked exactly what I was wondering myself.

"I don't ever remember meeting either of them," I assured him. "I'm sure they're just concerned what with my being underaged and all."

"Yeah…s'pose you're right," he said, though mostly to himself.

Stepping out from under the cloak, I stared off dead ahead in hopes that Harry was still there. "Well I'd better be going," I told him before a sudden thought occured. "But, y'know, someone should tell Cedric about this. He's the only one who doesn't know."

"You're right," he said. "No worries, I'll tell him."

"Ace," I commented. "Well, g'night, Harry."

"'Night, Demetria."

No sooner had the words sprung from his mouth than did he bolt out from beyond the edge of the forest, as though he had somewhere to be at…well past midnight. And it seemed Harry wasn't the only one who had better places to be, for when I retraced my steps back to where I'd left the twins, they too were no longer in sight. Regardless, I saw my own way out of the Forbidden Forest, only to run into someone else though figuratively this time.

"Demetria!" said Karkaroff upon turning to face me. "Was that you?"

"Was what me, sir?" I asked him, genuinely confused. He couldn't have seen me sneaking off. He was fast asleep in his cabin, though apparently not anymore… Come to think of it, how long had he been up?

"I could have sworn I had just run into something…" Karkaroff continued to look around suspiciously at waist height.

It must have been Harry. "Oh right," I said, feigning forgetfulness. "Sorry, sir, that was me."

"Well then…Quite alright, Demetria," he assured with a small grin. "No damage done, after all. Now then, back to the ship." He merely shooed me off in hopes of continuing on to the forest, no doubt. Well, if he was willing to cheat…

"I was just in there, sir," I told him. Whether he was pretending not to comprehend or truly didn't, I was not aware. "The forest — I know what they're keeping in their for the task."

Karkaroff's eyes quickly swept across the area before he placed a hand on my shoulder and lead me toward the ship. He didn't speak until we'd reached the dock. "Now, what did you — ?"

"Dragons," The word sprang from my tongue almost instantly. "Four of them — one for each champion. We've got to get past them."

The charcoal eyes of my headmaster remained unfazed, for clearly this was just as bad as he'd been expecting. Although that too wasn't even the case, given his almost amused response: "Oh, that was it?"

Was he mad? "What d'you mean, '_that was it_'? They're dragons for Christ's sake!"

"Shhh, Demetria, calm yourself," he advised; I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "All you really must do is blind the beast. I believe Professor Palenycky has taught you accordingly."

"Easier said than done, sir," I told him as we made our way up the plank and over the ship's railing.

"Only if you allow it to be," he insisted, making way for his cabin doors. "Sleep well, Demetria."

"You too, sir."

And so with that, I made my way below deck admist all of the snoring and moved as soundlessly as possible to the bunk I shared with Viktor, who was asleep on the bottom bunk. I climbed up to mine above, but upon removing my combat boots and laying my head on the pillow, I heard my name whispered in a Scottish accent which sent my body rocketing from the bed.

"Finn!" He sat upright in the top bunk parallel to mine and Viktor's. "You scared me half to death, mate."

"Sorry, Dem," he apologized. "Fred and George came by not too long ago and wanted me to tell you: '_sorry for leaving you, but we knew you'd find your way out_'. Whatever that means."

But I didn't even thank him, didn't say goodnight, didn't acknowledge that I'd heard him at all really. For once my head hit that pillow once again, that time I was sound asleep almost instantly.

–

The rest of the week flew by, and I wasn't at all sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I was almost glad to be getting it over and done with. But on the other hand, there was no gaurantee it would go as swimmingly as Karkaroff made it seem. But Sunday afternoon, my mixed emotions and I were woken up by Finn who continued to tell me I would be late if I didn't get to the champions' tent immediately. Naturally, I'd already told him and Viktor both about the dragons. Normally, I would have also informed Grigor but due to his current state of being an arsehole, one couldn't blame me for withholding such information.

My black combat boots had been laced up in blood red laces, courtesy of myself, and I'd been provided with a pair of tight brown pants which I'd tucked into my boots, and a tight, tan, long-sleeved shirt with the Durmstrang coat of arms printed on the front in red. The back held home to my last name strewn across my shoulders, also in scarlet lettering. Once I was dressed, I emerged from below deck to meet the clapping and cheers of all the blokes. And though seeming reluctant, even Grigor clapped along. Nearly everyone else wished me luck in some way as I passed through them on my way to the plank. But before I swung even one leg over the railing, Karkaroff stopped me.

"Dressed like a champion," he said proudly. "Good luck, Demetria," Before allowing me to go and saying to the blokes on the ship. "Who is our champion!"

A thickly accented chorus of "HARRIS!" rang throughout the air.

"Who is our champion!"

"HARRIS!"

And once more, before I'd made it on to the grounds and headed for the tent visible through the Forbidden Forest. Upon entering, I had already spotted Fleur seated on a stool in the corner appearing rather pale and clammy. She didn't even seem to notice me walk in, even with Ludo Bagman announcing my entrance. Cedric, on the other hand, ceased his pacing back and forth to greet me with a weary smile, but a smile nontheless.

"Demetria," he said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm…" I couldn't seem to label how I was feeling. "…indifferent," I told him with a shrug of my shoulders. "How're you?"

He, too, shrugged. "Bit nervous, but I'm… fine, I s'pose?" He seemed as unsure as I felt.

"I trust Harry's told you?"

Cedric nodded, his eyes then falling down to my shoes. A small smile found it's way across his face then. "I like the laces."

"I was feeling festive." I smiled back; Harry entered the tent.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!" He did just that, sending a significant glance my way. "Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in! When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag," he held up said bag — a small sack of purple silk which he then shook at us. "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

Cedric nodded for the four of us before his face went slightly green and he began pacing once again. Fleur showed no reaction whatsoever and neither did Harry… Neither did I. But Cedric and Fleur had at least volunteered for this, whereas Harry and I were thrown in the lion's den against our will. Or well, more of a dragon's nest, if you will.

And then, sooner than we all would have liked, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking… _Oh no, don't mind us. We're just practically pissing ourselves in here about to face a dragon_. And speaking of, Bagman then opened the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, first offering it to Fleur.

I didn't wish the Hungarian Horntail upon anyone, not even Phlegm. But as she put a shaking hand inside the bag, she drew out nothing more than a tiny, perfect model of the Common Welsh Green with a number two around its neck. And judging by Fleur's complete lack of surprise, I'd been right in assuming Madame Maxime had told her what was in store.

Bagman then offered the bag to me, to which I drew a miniature Chinese Fireball with a number three strung around its neck. I didn't even blink, almost didn't even breathe. I just stared into the tiny dragon's eyes and it stared right back, only stretching its miniscule wings. If only the real thing were as calm as that ickle little guy.

I then looked to Cedric who had already pulled the Swedish Snort-Snout with a number one tied around its neck. And as Harry reached his hand into the bag next, we both knew before he pulled out a dragon which one it was going to be. Sure enough, a miniature Hungarian Horntail sat in the palm of Harry's hand, the number four draped around its neck.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Harry agreed and the two departed from the tent, leaving the two other champions and I to stare at one another. Some form of fear or nervousness engulfed our eyes, but we weren't left alone for much longer. Just then, from somewhere, a whistle blew. My hand instinctively latched itself around Cedric's wrist, not only to calm him but to calm myself. That whistle practically Stunned my chest, my heart nearly leaping from it. Luckily, Cedric was significantly less green now, nodding his thanks to me as I released him and nodded my best wishes. As Harry re-entered the tent, Cedric emerged from it.

All we could do for the rest of the time was sit and listen. Listen to the crowd cheering or screaming, yelling or gasping at whatever it was Cedric was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Meanwhile though, Fleur seemed to have taken his place in pacing the tent, while Harry and I simply sat back and looked around. The only thing that made it all worse was Bagman's commentary. He'd say things like: "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow" or "He's taking risks, this one!" or "_Clever _move — pity it didn't work!"

But finally after what felt like hours but was really only about fifteen minutes, there came the deafening roar from the crowd which could only mean one thing: Cedric had gotten past the dragon and captured the golden egg!

"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!" And though I would have liked him to, he didn't shout out the marks. "One down, three to go!" The whistle sounded once again, a new swarm of butterflies fluttering violently inside me. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Everything I felt on the inside, Fleur displayed outside. Her entire body was trembling from head to foot, and I felt a sudden empathy toward her for the first time. I wanted to wish her luck, but I couldn't find my voice and she'd already left the tent anyway. That just left Harry and I to sit and listen to more of Bagman's commentary: "Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" he shouted. "Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Ten minutes later, the crowd erupt into applause once again, meaning Fleur must have also been successful. There was another pause as the marks were undoubtedly shown, followed by more clapping, and then much to my dismay…the third whistle.

"And here comes Miss Harris!" cried Bagman.

"Good luck, Demetria," Harry rushed out in a rather hoarse voice. I looked to him, nodded, and made my way out of the tent.

I wished the walk past the trees and through the gap in the enclosure fence could have been longer. I wished the panic rising in my chest would cease. But more than anything, I hoped this bloody dragon wouldn't kill me!

Emerging from the shadows of the trees, I was greeted by the cheers of hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at me from the stands. But it was the other side of the enclosure which held my attention, for that was where the Chinese Fireball was crouched low over her clutch of eggs. This did not last long, however. With nothing but my wand in hand, I did what could only be looked upon as bloody stupid — I ran straight toward her. I figured Bagman was making some sort of comment about how risky this was, but somehow I managed to tune him out, and the audience for that matter. Either that, or I simply couldn't hear over the cry of the Fireball, which was even more ear-piercing up close.

I was forced to skid to a stop off on the side of the enclosure, now so close to this beast that one breath of fire from her would surely fry me within seconds. In fact, she looked as though she was about to. And I'd been so panicked and caught up in dodging the flames, which I dove off to the side to do, that I'd nearly forgotten what Karkaroff had told me to do. My head seemed so much clearer now, as I got back to my feet and began scheming. I knew unless I wanted the golden egg — and all of the others — crushed, I had to lure the dragon away from her nest. Though I wasn't entirely sure how long I could keep up dancing around the mushroom shaped flame she hurled at me once again. Dodging that one had brought me to the center of the enclosure.

As though just remembering the ten-and-a-quarter inches of ash wood in my hand, I cast my first spell of the task. All I'd done so far was Transfigure a rock on the ground into a long enough rope before the Chinese Fireball had turned to whip me with her enormous tail. I seized the opportunity, jumping as high as I possibly could while holding the ends of the rope, my wand quickly having been stowed away in the side of my right boot. The only problem with that was her tail was far larger than the height of my leap, so one of the spikes I hadn't even seen before jabbed me in the side and I was forced to hold on to it as she swung me up into the air by her tail.

All right, so my original plan of somehow magically Binding the dragon was out and I was far too busy holding on for dear life so that I wouldn't be sent flying to this dragon's bloody nesting grounds in China to conjure up a new plan…but it wasn't over yet! She continued to try and shake me off and in doing so, she began to stray from her nest. All I had to do was speed up the process. I carefully released my right hand's grip on the spike and pulled my wand from my boot on the leg I'd nearly wrapped around the tail itself. Turning back, and still holding on as she attempted to throw me once again, I aimed my wand at her tail and called out, "_Stupefy!_"

I knew it wouldn't do any good to have just one person Stun a dragon, I'd seen that with my own eyes. But I'd accomplished what I wanted done, for the Chinese Fireball released almost a whimper of pain, lowered herself to the ground, and turned her head to send another mushroom shaped flame in my direction. I then unwrapped myself from her giant tail and fell to the ground flat on my back, a pain shooting down my spine. But I did my best to ignore it and get back to my feet, wand at the ready for when she turned back to face me. When she did, I sent the Conjunctivitis Curse at both of her eyes, the beast crying out in a horrible, roaring shriek.

Already back-tracking as fast as I could, I then turned back and ran toward the nest, knowing full-well that the dragon's eyes were swelling shut, temporarily blinding her. I could fell her teetering in the earth beneath me, but I never stopped running until I'd reached the nest which held home to numerous crimson eggs speckled with gold, but my interest was only in the one I grabbed and held in my hands — the golden egg.

The crowd around me errupted in such a thunderous applause that it nearly scared me. I'd almost forgotten they were all watching, but they seemed to make up for it with their deafening cheers. I took a look around and saw the dragon keepers rushing to subdue the Chinese Fireball and I finally almost seemed to turn the volume back up on Ludo Bagman's commentary.

"Well would you look at that!" he yelled. "One of our two youngest champions has managed the quickest time…so far!"

I looked over toward the entrance of the enclosure and saw Professor McGonagall walking toward me, her over-joyed eyes looking down at me from over her square spectacles. "Excellent job, Miss Harris!" she praised before pointing out of the enclosure. "You may wish to visit the first aid tent, however. That was a rather severe fall you took."

Nodding, I made my way out of the enclosure and continued on until I came to an older witch in nurse attire. Having been too hopped up on adrenaline, I failed to notice the pain still shooting down my spine and the aching in my side where I kept the golden egg close. The witch stood eager to help at the mouth of a second tent, looking to me with worry.

"Madam Pomfrey, dearie," she introduced, rushing me inside.

Entering the tent, I found it to be divided into cubicles and I could even make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas of one. Whatever he'd done, it clearly hadn't injured him too badly; he was sitting up at least. Madam Pomfrey examined my own injuries, starting with my side. She lifted my shirt enough to reveal a rather ghastly bruise, but surprisingly no skin was broken.

"Don't worry, it's not nearly as bad as it looks," she assured, dabbing it with some purple liquid that smoked and stung. But she then poked it with her wand and the bruise was almost completely healed, reduced to nothing more than a minor black and blue. "Now let's see that back of yours."

She moved around where I stood and lifted my shirt from the back, revealing my dark blue bra. But I wasn't worried what with Cedric behind the canvas and no one else around. Well, no one else _was _around until…

"Demi, that was positively brill — !" Finn came running in to say, along with Viktor _and _the twins.

"And to think we almost missed _this _show for Harry's!" said Fred to his brother, the two high-fiving. Finn and Viktor looked away uncomfortably.

"Oh honestly, you two!" I hissed. "Avert your eyes! Or at least be discrete about it…like Finn's trying to do." I caught those green orbs shifting my way only to shoot back down to the ground upon my noticing. However, as soon as Madam Pomfrey had tapped her wand to my spine, it felt good as new, almost as though it re-aligned.

"There you are, Miss Harris," she said, already rushing off to Cedric's cubicle. "You and your friends may check your score!"

Unrolling my shirt so it covered my torso once again, I smacked Fred and George both upside the head so those googly eyes of their's would return to their sockets. Finn and Viktor, amused by this, followed me out of the tent before the twins did. We'd all barely managed to exit the tent before running into Grigor. He was pale as a ghost and completely speechless for a moment. Could it have been the moment I'd been waiting for? Sure enough, though still without a word, Grigor wrapped me up in his embrace and I returned the affection.

"Demetria," he said seriously when we'd pulled away. "I am so sorry! I had thought — but now I see —"

"It's all right, Grig," I assured him, laughing a bit at his blundering. "Just glad to be alive."

Alive. Hey…I _was _alive! I'd just faced a Chinese Fireball…and lived! I'd made it through the first task!

"That vas amazing though, Dem," praised Grigor. "Better you out there than me anyvay. I do not think I could take on a dragon."

"Speaking of," George chimed in. "I reckon they'll be putting up your scores."

So with the golden egg back in my hands, the six of us made our way to the edge of the enclosure. From there, I could see where the five judges were seated right at the other end in raised seats draped in gold.

"The marks are from one to ten," Viktor told me as we watched the first judge — Madame Maxime — raise her wand into the air. What looked to be a long silver ribbon shot from it and twisted itself into a seven.

"Probably only because Fleur's been speaking ill of you," said Finn bitterly.

"That or she simply didn't approve of my landing," I joked.

"That must be it," agreed Fred. "Not graceful enough."

"She is all style points!" Grigor called out rather indignantly. "Pay her no mind, Demetria." And I didn't. Madame Maxime's score was the last thing on my mind. I was just so thrilled to have Grigor back on my side.

Mr. Crouch was next, shooting a number eight into the air, followed by Dumbledore and then Ludo Bagman who both put up a nine.

"That is more like it," said Viktor from beside me.

And finally from Karkaroff — I couldn't say I was surprised as I'm sure Viktor and Grigor weren't either — a ten.

"That puts you in the lead, love!" said George excitedly.

Just then, the fourth and final whistle blew. It was Harry's turn. In all of the excitement, I'd completely forgotten Harry still had yet to face his dragon. He was still feeling the fear and the anxiety, wondering if he would even make it out alive. Fred and George hurried back to their spots in the stand and the judges were suddenly blocked by the Hungarian Horntail. Viktor and Grigor returned to their spots as well, but Finn stayed back with me by the first aid tent, for I wasn't really up for dealing with the noises of the crowd…or the dragon.

"You could've gone on, Finn," I told him. "I'll be fine."

"No shite, I just saw you take on a bleeding dragon," he said, still in awe over it. "But if I go, who's gonna tell you how your favorite Hufflepuff and your least favorite half-veela did?"

So as Finn had told me, apparently Cedric did a bit of Transfiguring of his own, however his was successful…or well, more so than mine. He too Transfigured a rock on the ground, but to a dog in hopes of distracting the dragon. It worked, for Cedric was able to retrieve the egg, but evidently the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it wanted Cedric rather than the Labrador, hence Cedric's burns and need of first aid.

Fleur, on the other hand, used a charm to put her dragon in a sort of trance. Apparently, that sort of worked too, until it snored and a great jet of flame shot out, Fleur's skirt catching on fire. Though she was able to put it out with some water from her wand.

Pretty soon, Harry was making his way up toward the first aid tent, panting and with the golden egg in his hands.

"Harry!" I called out. "What'd you do?"

Before Madam Pomfrey had rushed him inside the tent, he looked to me and rushed out the words, "I flew!"

"Flying!" I said, slapping my palm against my forehead. "Why the bloody hell didn't _I _think of that? My father was a Quidditch star for Godric's sake!"

"And so are you!" Finn said, just as upset with himself that he hadn't thought of flying. But just as the two of us were about to depart for the ship, Ludo Bagman called out my name.

"I wondered if you might gather the boys and meet me back in the champions' tent?" he said. "Fleur is already waiting."

He walked off toward the tent himself after I'd nodded in agreement. And so ducking my head into the first aid tent, I said to Cedric who finally emerged from behind the canvas. "Ced, you and Harry come down to the champions' tent when you're ready."

"All right." He smiled, one side of his face covered in a thick orange paste. "Nice job out there, by the way."

"Same to you," I told him with a grin of my own. And parting ways with Finn, I made my own way to the tent where I stood in relative silence with Fleur and Bagman. Though it wasn't much longer until Harry and Cedric both entered the tent, grinning.

"Congratulations on first place, Demetria," said Harry.

"_First place_?" I echoed. "Are you mad? How did I — ?"

"No need to be modest, Demetria!" Bagman insisted. "Barely a scratch on you, you've earned it! And well done, _all _of you! Now, just a few quick words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open…see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg — because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well off you go, then!"

I swore that Ludo Bagman was as mad as a hatter… But regardless, the other champions and I all left the tent and I myself rejoined Viktor, Grigor, and Finn as we all began making our way back to the ship.


	6. Chapter 5: Lucy in the Sky

_**Chapter Five**_

_Lucy in the Sky_

:.:.:

All was somewhat quiet, nearly serene, above deck. Although, with whatever celebration undoubtedly awaited the four of us below deck, it was no wonder everything above it seemed so calming. But before descending down, I stole a moment simply to sit upon the starboard railing, one leg dangling over the waters and the other over the deck. The golden egg, glimmering where the setting sun hit it, I placed before me on the railing.

"What d'you reckon's inside?" I asked the blokes, eyes never leaving the egg.

"Open it," replied Grigor airily. "Do the finding out."

My fingers traced the groove which ran all the way around the egg. But just as I was about to open it, Viktor came in and snatched it out from under me. And when I looked to him for an explanation, he told me: "Let us open it among our brothers."

So I hopped down from the railing and made way for the stairs. I let Viktor continue to hold the egg because quite frankly, it weighed more than one might think. The three blokes allowed me to make my way down first, engulfed in complete darkness once I'd reached the cabin floor. But the moment my combat boots did make contact with that ground, every candle and torch was set aflame, the other Durmstrang blokes plus Karkaroff cheering. Shadows danced across the walls, a glow of orange tinted everyone's face as they began the chant once again.

"Who is our champion?" came Karkaroff.

"HARRIS!" they all cried.

"Who will win?"

"HARRIS!"

"For whom will she win?"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!"

With each shout, they'd all shot their fists into the air. But finally, they dropped them and sent a thunderous applause echoing through out the cabin. All cheered again, especially Viktor, Finn, and Grigor… Well, all except Nikolai and Oskar Kowalski, his scrawny side-kick. But I certainly wasn't about to let those two gits ruin the evening…if that were even possible. I mean I'd just faced a bloody dragon for Merlin's sake!

"Demetria Harris!" Karkaroff called out. I made my way over to him in the center of the crowd as the excitement died down. "I believe I speak on behalf of everyone when I say…the Goblet of Fire has chosen you for a reason, and a damn good reason indeed!" Another round of cheers issued. "Today, you have shown your true strength and ability, and proved your worthiness to be in this tournament! You have given your rivals something to fear, and to us you have given a great hope — FOR DURMSTRANG!"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!" I joined the blokes in repeating.

"Vi vil seire!" Karkaroff led his few, fellow Norwegians in shouting. **(**_**We will prevail**_**)**

Next, even fewer in both Russian and Ukrainian overlapped one another with "My peremozhemo!" and "My pobedim!" **(**_**We win**_**)**

And last but in no way least, all who remained shouted out in Bulgarian: "Nie shte zavladee!" **(**_**We will conquer**_**)**

Regardless of my nationality consisting of only British and Bulgarian, I still knew what each of them were saying and it all made me feel the same — empowered. Viktor was right — these were our brothers. We'd all grown together since age eleven, and learned one another's languages. All along I'd been thinking my grandfather was the only family I had left… Never had I been so wrong.

"Demetria!" called out Aleksander. "Vill you open the egg?" The blokes commenced cheering in agreement.

My eyes scanned the cabin for Viktor but weren't searching long, for he was already striding towards me with the golden egg in his hands. Viktor smiled as he handed it off to me, the weight nearly catching me off guard once again. It seemed as though everyone was only getting louder upon digging my fingernails into the grooves which ran down the egg. As I did so, I stole a quick glance at Karkaroff who nodded his approval, and that was when I prised it open to find it completely empty… but a bloody horrible noise came from it. Everyone's hands flew to protect their ears from the loud and screechy wailing which now echoed throughout the cabin.

Practically forgetting I'd been holding the source of the noise, I dropped it to the ground to cover my own ears. However, that was no longer necessary, for the egg had shut once it hit the ground. Everyone stood frozen and gaping at the egg, silent as stars. Only when I went to pick it up, did someone comment.

"Vhat _vas _that?" Sergei spoke up first.

"It sounded of banshees!" added Grigor. "Perhaps you vill haff to fight those next!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Grig," I told him, handing the egg back to Viktor. Of course there was always the slim chance that he could've been right…But banshees? Honestly? I'd prefer the dragon again.

"She is right, Poliakoff," said Nikolai darkly, as though stepping out from the shadows. His lips were twisted up in their usual smirk. "Sounded more like _torture_ if you ask me."

"Good thing no one asked you then eh, Pavel?" Finn stepped out from the crowd to challenge him.

Nikolai's smirk remained intact as he continued to droll. "Do not be so quick to do the ruling out," he said smoothly. "Anything is possible in this tournament…including torture."

"That is enough, Nikolai," silenced Karkaroff gravely. But even in eyes as dark as Karkaroff's, the fear was still visible. Because even he knew that, unfortunately, Nikolai had just as much of a chance as Grigor in guessing what the next task was. And though I never thought I'd hope to encounter a banshee, when it came down to them or being tortured…well, there's a first time for everything. Although the two truly weren't so far off.

"If everyone would please…" Karkaroff's voice trailed off before making his way to the steps. "Ready yourselves for bed. God natt og ser dere i morgen." **(**_**Good night and see you tomorrow**_**)**

"God natt," the rest of us chorused. We all then waited for the door leading above deck to open and close signaling Karkaroff's exit, to actual move to our bunk-beds. Viktor and I headed to ours, Finn and Marcus already occupying their's which was parallel to mine.

"Well, Pavel, you certainly know how to kill a mood," I couldn't stop myself from saying into the darkness which was now forming; everyone was beginning to kill the light from the torches and such. Viktor shot me a significant glance just before I commenced climbing the ladder to my top bunk. I knew he didn't want me to start anything between myself and Nikolai.

Nikolai, however, merely chuckled quietly to himself and said from his own bunk, "Sweet dreams, Lille Prinsesse."

My skin began to crawl at the nickname. I honestly would have been less offended if he'd shot back one of his infamously cruel remarks. But still, I didn't engage myself in his bullshite…regardless of the kick Viktor sent up to my bunk to ensure that I wouldn't. In all honesty though, I was far too tired, for it had only been a few hours ago that I'd had to battle a dragon. But it wasn't until I'd changed into my usual pajamas of plaid boxer shorts and a long-sleeved Bulgaria Quidditch shirt and my head was on the pillow that I realized just how tired I truly was. Sleep came almost instantly, only this time, it brought something along with it…

–

_Night has fallen upon a graveyard, a thin layer of fog hanging in the air. A small army of both cloaked and masked Death Eaters stand in horizontal rows behind me, as I stand before the a man by the name of Peter Pettigrew who carries the Dark Lord himself. I am clad in my usual dark apparal, as is Draco who stands at my side, but neither of us bare a cloak or a skeletal mask. Grandad stands at my other side with one hand resting on my shoulder _— _it is the arm which holds his Dark Mark; Lucius Malfoy is doing the same to Draco._

_ "Vie ste pochti tam," Grandad whispers to me, his voice shaking. __**(You are almost there)**__. Even his touch begins to tremble, so I cross my left hand over my chest and place it over the hand he rests on my right shoulder. _

_"Demetria Harris," hisses Voldemort from his small, fetal body. Pettigrew, or Wormtail as they call him, takes careful steps toward Carlisle and I. "You must help me_…_You WILL help me_…_ You will help bring my body back."_

_ My voice comes as stolid as ever. "I will help bring your body back, my Lord."_

_ "You will bring the boy to me," Voldemort goes on, his voice still smooth and icy as ever. "You will bring Harry Potter to me_…_in this very graveyard."_

_ "I will bring the boy to you," I assure him; the voice I use hardly sounds my own. "I will _—_"_

_ But before I can finish, there is a beam of light breaking through the night sky. It rips through the dark velvet yet does not disturb the stars, even the moon remains perfectly in place. The light shines down upon me causing all Death Eaters to scatter, even Grandad backs away. I, however, continue to look into the tear in the sky, waiting for someone or something to appear. But instead, a voice echoes throughout _— _a woman's voice, and a familiar one at that. _

_ "Demetria," she says gently. And then I know_…

_ "Mum?" I call out hopefully. I feel another hand brush my shoulder, but upon turning, it's not Grandad this time. It's her _— _Lucy Harris, my mother. Her presence is angelic, a white glow all around her. And her hair falls in perfect, blonde curls down her back, a set of warm, brown eyes nearly filling with tears as she looks at me. She's beautiful, frozen at age twenty-two_…_but is she real? "Is that really you?"_

_ She nods and then tells me, "I don't have much time, but I had to warn you_…_"_

_ "Warn me about what?" I ask her urgently._

_ "Demetria, you must listen to me _— _do not let him steal it from you," And before I know it, she's unclasping a necklace from around her own neck and holding it out before me to admire. On a silver chain, there hangs a small, heart-shaped locket, bearing an inscription of sorts on the front._

_ "I don't understand," I try to tell her as she drops the locket into my hand. "Who's going to steal this?" I hold up the silver heart between us._

_ "What he wishes to take from you does not lie within the locket," she tells me, her cold hand now pressed against my heart. "It lies here."_

_ "What does?" I ask her, starting to panic as I watch my mother begin to fade away as the beam of light dims. "Who wants to steal it? Wait! Mum, don't go! Don't leave me! Mum!" _

–

"Mum…Mum, come back…Don't leave…Mum —"

"Demetria!" came a fierce whisper. My body began to rock as it issued again. "_Demetria_!"

Several things all happened at once — my heart nearly catapulted from inside my chest, my eyes opened to reveal the darkness of the ship's cabin, Finn could be detected hovering over me from the bunk bed's ladder, and something felt cold within my hand. Wait — something cold in my… I sat up and opened my fist to find a silver locket sitting in the palm of my right hand.

"Demetria, are you all right?" Finn asked me, worried. "Must've been quite the dream you wer — Why d'you have that?"

My heartbeat was then practically audible as I told Finn, "My mum gave it to me."

"So you…sleep with it?" he persisted, seeming a bit reluctant to believe this. After a moment of my expression not changing, he continued. "How long ago did you get it?"

Then it was my turn to be reluctant. "Tonight," I finally confessed. And I braced myself for however Finn would react next — confused, afraid, amused…or maybe he'd simply label me crazy and send me off to St. Mungo's.

But as it turned out, he did none of the above. Instead, he continued to gaze into my eyes and then told me in all seriousness, "Let's get you some tea, eh?" He then hopped down from the ladder and before I knew it, was back again tossing some article of clothing into my lap. "Mornings are getting colder."

"_Finnick_," I snapped, though managed to keep my voice hushed. He ceased scurrying about and turned to face me in the darkness. "I just woke up with the locket my dead mother gave me in my dream, and you're response is to get me _tea_?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Finn spoke again, just as seriously as last time. "You're right…Better make it coffee. Come on then, cover up." And the next thing I knew, my combat boots had been tossed up to my bunk as well.

And to think…for a moment, I'd actually been thinking _I _was the crazy one. But regardless, I still made my way down the ladder, locket still in hand. Upon examining the article of clothing, I made it out to be a pair of sweatpants which I quickly pulled my legs through over my boxer shorts. Then after lacing up my boots, I followed Finn as we made our way above deck, and then off the ship entirely. We'd apparently risen just before the sun, for the sky seemed to have just shifted from dark to light. Finn and I walked silently across the grounds until we reached the castle.

"Oh honestly Finn, what're we doing?" I stopped to ask him; he shushed me, but I ignored it, my palm up to show him the locket. "Need I remind you I just got this from my _dead _mother?"

Finn grabbed me by the shoulders and gripped me tightly. "You _needn't _remind me of anything," he said almost mockingly…or perhaps it just sounded that way to me. "I understand what happened."

"Then you can explain this?" I inquired brightly.

"No," was his simple reply, as though the answer had been obvious.

"But you just said —"

"I said I understood, I never said I could explain it," he clarrified, his hands dropping from my shoulders. "Demetria…the world is full of…unexplainable forces and mysteries and…_magic_. Whatever happened to you tonight…it was magic. You've got no reason to be afraid of it… I'm not."

My body succumbed to a shiver as a near-arctic wind swept through. Finn took notice and brought me to his chest with one hand. "Thank you," I told him, and I hoped he knew it was for more than keeping me warm. I took that time to reflect on how close Finn and I had grown in such a short number of days…weeks, really. But it was then that I realized just how little I actually knew about him. In fact, there were only about three things I knew for certain — One: he was born and raised in Scotland, but was also partially Bulgarian. Two: he possessed a great interest in Hogwarts. And three: he was a hell of a good Beater. So all in all…I truly had little next to no idea who he was.

But just as he started for the kitchen, I stopped him. "We don't have to go, I'm fine," I insisted. And I felt him smile against the top of my forehead just before he pulled away and was smiling down at me.

"May I?" he said, holding out his hand to me. I placed the locket delicately in his palm and then turned around, collecting and holding up my medium brown locks as he clasped the locket around my neck. "Have you opened it yet?"

Turning back to face him and dropped my hair, I held the silver heart as far away from my neck as possible and looked down at it. "You know, I didn't even think t —"

After a moment, Finn finally asked, "What is it?"

"I dunno," I told him. "I can't read upside down."

His hands then replaced mine as he examined the inscription on the heart. "It's — It's not English…"

"Well what is it then?" I prodded.

"No idea," admitted Finn. "It's a vertical line with a flag on the right… Then another vertical line… No flag though — Could be a '1', could be an 'L'. Er…capital 'X', capital 'H' — 'cept the line in the middle's slanted. And then an arrow pointing up…"

I visualized it all in my mind as Finn explained it, but it was unlike anything I'd ever seen. "Is that even a real language?"

"I s'pose," Finn shrugged. "It's got to mean _something_… D'you reckon we could look it up?"

"I wouldn't even know where to look," I admitted, walking toward the edge of the castle upon where I could see a small, winged creature soaring toward Finn and I.

The sun was beginning to rise now, it's rays shining through the large, stone columns like fingers, touching and warming me. I slipped in between two of them as the bird drew closer, and I recognized it as the fair-sized brown owl which delivered my letter to Grandad not too long ago. Finn held out his arm for the owl to rest upon, which he did after dropping the rolled up parchment into my hands. Speaking of Grandad…

_Demetria _—

_I believe it's not my turn to apologize for taking this long to write...or reply, rather. I have had my own fair share of some hectic things going on around here. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying yourself at Hogwarts. Both of your parents made some of their best memories at that school. _

_ As for this tournament business, I am sorry I wasn't able to console you through your time of worry, but I have heard from Lucius that you handled the first task exceptionally well. Faced a dragon, did you? Perhaps dragon keeping is in your future _— _or anything else besides Quidditch. You have a tremendous amount of skill, Demetria, but you have so many other magnificent talents that should be put to use instead. _

_ While I do find it odd that you and Harry Potter have been selected as champions, I must say I find it a bit more odd that your wand core is an Augurey tail feather. I must admit, I'd never known that. But what can I say? My brother always was a bit of a tosser... Clearly where you get it from. Only teasing, sweetheart. But in all seriousness, do look after yourself and be careful in this tournament. _

_ Stick with Viktor, Grigor, and even Draco, and as soon as you find something out about the second task, write me. I promise to reply much quicker. Tinker and I send all of our luck and love._

— _Grandad_

For a moment, I considered writing to Grandad about my dream, but decided against it. He was probably still busy with Death Eater business. Ugh, Death Eaters… I'd nearly forgotten I was required to become one. And once I was…What would people like Viktor or Grigor or even Finn think of me? Bloody hell… The only person I'd still have would be Draco… But until that time came, I didn't plan on revealing such a secret to anyone — I looked to Finn who was smiling at the hooting owl — no matter how close I was to them.

"Harris! Anderson!" called out an unmistakably accented voice. A simple turn of the head confirmed it — Sasha Polinskiy. He was making his way toward us, but stopped a few feet away. "The Headmaster has something he wishes to discuss." And then he ushered his forward, to which we did just that and followed Sasha back aboard the ship.

Karkaroff was standing in full uniform and perfectly groomed up on the quarterdeck by the ship's wheel, while the rest of us stood on the lower deck still clad in pajamas, hair disheveled. And as soon as Finn, Sasha, and I had claimed our place among them, Karkaroff immediately began speaking.

"God morgen," he greeted as he always did. **(**_**Good morning**_**)** To which, we replied with the same. He continued: "The morning each of you were chosen to take this journey, you may recall me mentioning a rather important event. This event is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an oppertunity, not only to show Durmstrang's unity, but to…socialize."

Whispers began to weave through the small crowd, for everyone remembered exactly what Karkaroff was talking about, myself included. It was that ridiculous Yule Ball. But thankfully, despite the wishes of Karkaroff, that was one event I would not be attending.

"I am, of course, speaking of the Yule Ball," he finally revealed, confirming everyone's assumption. "This ball has a restriction of fourth years and above, but…that is not a problem for anyone here, korrekte?" **(**_**Correct**_**)** We echoed the Norwegian words. "Excellent. Now then, you are all to wear your heavier uniforms in order to represent our institute. The ball will be held in the Great Hall, beginning at eight o'clock on Christmas Day and finishing at midnight. This _is _a night for you all to enjoy yourselves, HOWEVER… I expect respectable and model behavior from every one of my students. If anyone is to bring embarrassment to myself, others, the institute or themselves, there will be consequences… Forstått?" **(**_**Understood**_**)**

That time, only the Norwegians were able to understand and echo it. But it didn't seem to matter to Karkaroff, for he then dismissed us to our cabins to ready ourselves for breakfast in the Great Hall. Well… he dismissed all but me, whom he summoned up to the quarterdeck. So after assuring Finn I'd catch up in a moment, I ascended up the steps and stood before Karkaroff who waited until the deck had been cleared to speak.

"Demetria, in regards to the ball —"

"I know what you're going to try and do, sir," I told him, already having figured this would be some sort of persuasion to get me to attend. "But my mind's been made up since you first mentioned this ball. Durmstrang will be perfectly represented without me."

Karkaroff then looked to me in mild amusement. "True enough, I did agree that you did not have to attend," he began. "_However_…" and then my heart sank. "…that was before you were selected as champion. Demetria, you must attend the Yule Ball, you must have a partner, and you must open the ball with said partner."

"And by open, you mean…?" My voice trailed off, afraid of where it would lead. But in the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question.

"Dance," was Karkaroff's simply, and yet still amused, reply.

I released a long, mournful sigh before sarcastically asking, "Any particular color my dress ought to be?"

"Red," replied Karkaroff in all seriousness. "To match the boys."

But before I could utter a single syllable, let alone protest, Karkaroff had insisted I get changed and go to breakfast. And I would've objected, had it not been for my stomach growling at that exact moment. So rather reluctantly, I made my way below deck and traded my pajamas for Durmstrang's lightest uniform, and was able to catch up with the blokes before they'd even entered the Great Hall. This pleased Karkaroff, for he told us to always enter any room or place all together and in two lines. Said something about it being intimidating. But personally, I didn't see anything threatening about two single-file lines. Nevertheless, that was how we entered the hall and made an immediate bee-line for the Slytherin table. Both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students already occupied the hall, though I'd imagined neither had heard of the Yule Ball yet due to the lack of birds animatedly speaking of dresses and dates, and blokes embarrassing themselves as they'd attempt to ask one of said birds to the ball. Unfortunately, there would come a time in that day when both of those percentages would rise.

–

Alright, honestly — Hogwarts was bloody enormous! How in the sodding hell did the entire school come to know about the ball before noon! Finn and I had tucked ourselves away in the library in hopes of decoding whatever was enscribed on my locket, but it was a rather hard task to accomplish when random blokes would approach me and ask to go to the Yule Ball with them.

"Worst part about being champion — being forced to attend this Godric-damned ball." I scowled.

Finn gave a chuckle to my misfortune. "Why not ask the dragon to the ball with you?"

"At least if I did that, I'd have a brilliant excuse as to why I couldn't wear a dress," I said, making a turn down one of the many sections. Though honestly, I still hadn't the slightest idea of what I was looking for.

"Oh really?" Finn challenged in beguilement. "And what might it be?"

I turned to him and cracked a smile. "Dragon burned my dress."

He chuckled. "Ah, classic. Does it work for homework as well, or do I need a sep — ?" But he just stopped mid-sentence. And when I looked to him, he was gaping at where study tables were set up.

"What is it?" I whispered urgently; Finn went on ignoring me, still staring in bewilderment. "Finn, what're you staring at? Oi, Winifin!" I reached out to strike his arm. Finally, I had his attention.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "Why did y — Did you just call me Winifin?"

"Well you weren't responding to your _real_ name!" I defended. "And besides, I think Winifin suits you far better. No honestly," I insisted upon seeing Finn's expression shift from being shocked to being unamused. "Has no one ever told you how much your hips sway when you're walking? Very feminine."

"Oh bugger off…_Demetrius_," But I took Finn's nickname like a good sport just as he'd done for mine. "Now, take a look at that."

Following the finger Finn was pointing outward, I found it led me straight to a couple seated at one of the studying tables. I immediately recognized the girl to be that Hermione Granger, her bushy hair truly defining her. But the bloke she was with was someone I couldn't automatically identify. He had the seat with his back to me, however. But all it took was a single turn of his head for me to call out, "It's Viktor!"

Several things then happened at once: Viktor, and a few others near the area, turned abruptly, Finn pulled me down to duck behind one of the bookshelves with him, and a woman I imagined must be the librarian approached us.

She was thin and rather irritable-looking with physical attributes like those of an underfed vulture. Not a word was said to us, she merely placed a single finger over her shrivelled lips with a surprisingly intimidating face. Finn and I nodded our understanding before she left us. I stood then stood up first, making sure there were no more eyes scanning for us — there weren't.

"A bit louder next time," said Finn sarcastically. "I reckon the others back on the ship didn't quite hear you."

But I allowed the comment to roll off my back for I was far more preoccupied with Viktor, who must've said something to get Hermione to sit beside him…because that's what she was doing.

"Would you just _look_ at him?" I gushed. "All of this just to spend time with her! _Vicky_…Oh, he must really fancy her!" I knew despite all of the birds that clung to Viktor, that deep down he was really a shy bloke. I s'pose I was just glad he was putting himself out there, and it didn't hurt that Hermione seemed a right good choice, especially in comparison to the other slags that have thrown themselves Viktor's way.

"What're you on about?" Finn questioned. "Viktor doesn't even need tutoring! He's one of the top students back home!"

"Cover up, Finn, your naïvety is showing," I teased, catching Finn boldly looking down to check his fly from out of the corner of my eye…though it must've been for my amusement. Even still, I continued to ogle the two of them as they seemed to be drawn even closer to one another. "Viktor doesn't need a tutor, but he's clearly told Hermione that he does so he can spend time with her!"

"Well then why doesn't he just ask to spend time with her?" Finn asked as though it were completely obvious. Which, in all honesty, did make sense for him to think. But that was when I finally turned to face him and explain.

"Vic's much too shy for that. He's just a great, big teddy bear really." I clarrified. "He's got heaps of confidence out on the Quidditch pitch or even around his mates, but once a bird he fancies is involved…" My tone trailed off questioningly. "…he's got about as much belief in himself as he does in nargles."

Just then, the librarian returned and scolded Finn and I in both a stern and shrill voice, "If the two of you cannot keep quiet, I must ask you to leave the library.

In that moment, I looked to find every set of eyes in the library staring at the pair of us, including Viktor and Hermione's. A pang of guilt then hit me as I'd hoped Hermione didn't hear much of what I said in reference to Viktor's being like a teddy bear. But neither Finn nor I could stick around to find out, for the librarian was already ushering us toward the exit.

"_Well_," I said exasperatedly as we stood on the other side of the doors. "guess we're not decoding this locket today…"

"Such a disappointment… I'd cleared out my entire schedule for this," joked Finn.

I found a genuine laugh overcame me for a moment and he looked over and smiled at me. The two of us began walking, though I was sure neither of us knew where we were going. But I knew I certainly didn't have a particular destination in mind. Instead, I was more focused on Finn, himself. I was still so curious about him. It seemed he was the one I'd been spending all of this time with lately and yet, I couldn't tell you anymore than three facts about the bloke. But I wouldn't get any of my questions answered if I kept them in my mind…

"Finn," I began, overlapping his voice which said my own name. "Go ahead," I insisted.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Er, I was just wondering… Your parents — How long have they been…gone?" Apparently I wasn't the only one curious about the other.

"S'alright to say they're dead, Finn," I assured him. "I mean…it's what they are, ya know? But, erm, I was only a year old when I lost them…both of them. Well, my mum two months before my dad but…yeah." I then braced myself for the next, most obvious, question: How did they die? But either Finn simply wasn't interested or just didn't want to pry, because that question was never asked.

"_Blimey_…" was all he said at first, instead.

The two of us were now making our way down the stairs…or well, one of them. With how many there were versus which ways they moved and shifted, it was a bloody puzzle just to get to the ground floor.

"I'm so sorry, Demetria," Finn said to me. "I mean…Hell, only a year old — It's almost as though you didn't know them at all."

"In a way, it's sort of a —" I racked my brain for a suitable word, but ended up empty-handed. "Well, not exactly a _good _thing but…I feel like if I'd have gotten to know them, it would only hurt more to have them gone." That was how _I_ saw it anyway. If you were to lose anything, it would be easier to leave it early on.

"Huh, I s'pose there's truth to that," Finn mused. Upon finally reaching the first floor, it seemed he'd completely shifted his mood as he turned to me and inquired, "So was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah actually," I replied. I just had to think of a single question to ask first. And when that failed… "Who _are_ you?"

That earned a laugh from him, preceded by an entirely serious response, though while still wearing a grin. "I'm Finnick Simeon Anderson, born in 1979 on the fifth of November in Dufftown, Scotland. And yourself?"

I couldn't help it, I mirrored his smile. "I'm Demetria Evelyn Harris, born in 1980 on the eighteenth of February in… Well, somewhere in England."

Finn nodded, still grinning and still appearing interested. "I see… Though I'm afraid I've got you beat here — I'm the oldest of two siblings; a ten-year-old brother, Callum, and a thirteen-year-old step-sister, Tatiana. You know her — Tatiana Rolek, a third year back at school."

And I did know her, barely, but I had heard of her and seen her around. "I had no idea you two were related," I admitted.

"I wouldn't've expected you to," Finn said. "We look nothing alike, we've got different last names, and we barely even interact with one another."

"What, you two don't get along?" I inquired, figuring if Finn was uncomfortable answering something, he wouldn't have a problem in saying so.

"Well it's not that we particularly _don't _get along," he explained. "We just — Well I dunno really. Tatiana mainly keeps to herself anyway, so it feels as though it's really just me and Callum."

I nodded and took a minute before asking, "So why is it you go to Durmstrang? Callum, Finnick — sounds like a Scottish family to me."

"Actually, Finnick doesn't have a particular nationality, and Finn is Irish," he pointed out. "But my mum is Fiona and my real dad is Adam and those are both Scottish, so you're not completely off base. But Tatiana and my step-father Ivan… In case you can't tell, they're Bulgarian all the way. And when my mum married Ivan, he insisted mine and eventually Callum's schooling take place at Durmstrang."

And all this time I'd simply thought Finn had a Bulgarian background much like myself… "D'you like him?" We'd finally come to the end of the winding corridors, and seated ourselves on the castle steps we'd usually take when entering from the grounds off the ship. "Sorry if I'm prying."

Finn gave a smile and assured me, "I don't mind. Ivan's a good man…just not the best father," Any trace of a smile vanished, his lips snapping back into a hard line. "He's Head Auror for the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, so you could say he sort of takes his work home with him."

"Finn, he doesn't…?" I left the rest up to the imagination. Beat, hit, curse, hex… I wouldn't know. But Finn seemed to understand.

"No, nothing like that," he quickly relieved my worry. "He's just…strict, and rather harsh at times. But then again, seemed I had things so good with my real dad…guess I'm just not used to Ivan's parenting yet."

This only continued to peek my interest as I asked him, "How old were you when your mum re-married?"

"Well she and my dad got their divorce when I was about eight, so I s'pose _you've _got me beat there," I looked to him in confusion and he explained. "It's harder knowing what, or whom, I'm missing," I nodded and he continued. "Yeah, they said it just wasn't working out. Tried to stay together for Callum and I, but my mum just kept saying she couldn't be in a love-less marriage any longer. And then it was…two years later that she and Ivan were married."

I just took a moment to let it all soak in, but mostly to let Finn compose himself. It must've been hard on him to just lay out his life story on a rather sensitive subject. And though I hadn't even planned on asking any further questions, Finn looked to me with tears glimmering at the brim of his sea-green eyes.

"I used to write to him, Demetria," he told me softly, and I knew he meant Adam. "Everyday… He's never replied."

I was speechless, no idea what to say. What _could _I have said? I knew what I could do though. My arms found their way around Finn's neck and his automatically snaked around my waist, his face buried in my shoulder. I could feel the silent tears dampen my sleeve, but I just let him cry. At least now I finally knew more than three things about Finn…

* * *

**A/N:** _Sorry it's been so long! I've been busy with school and soccer._

_Also, sorry if you think you think this chapter's lame or too short! I have no excuse for that one though, haha._

_Thank you to everyone who's been reading, favoriting, reviewing, and just supporting!_

_I'd appreciate any reviews you have, it really helps keep me motivated :)_

_**Question of the Chapter:** Who do you think Demetria should go to the Yule Ball with?_


	7. Chapter 6: One Less Mystery

_**Chapter Six**_

_One Less Mystery_

:.:.:

As another week passed, I found myself being asked to the Yule Ball at nearly every turn. Not from any of my Durmstrang brothers, of course, but from an abundance of Hogwarts blokes, and even one of them from Beauxbatons. Needless to say, I turned them all down…_nicely_, of course. I knew I needed a dance partner — or as Finn kept saying, a _date _— but I hadn't exactly planned on going with someone who I didn't even know. Not to mention, I was sure at least half of them were only interested in me because I was a champion and the other half only because my father was a Quidditch star.

But even though the ball really should have been my top priority, given that it was so soon, I found both the golden egg and my mother's locket to be up much further on my list. It was just too bad Viktor and I couldn't even open the bloody egg without wanting to chuck it over the ship's railing and Finn and I had absolutely no sodding idea what to look for in the library. But that was exactly what we'd been doing all day, and were currently on our way back to the ship to find that night had just about fallen.

"This is hopeless," I said desolately, Finn and I making our way to the ground floor.

"Oh c'mon, Demetria," Finn encouraged. "the stair's aren't so bad once you figure 'em out."

"Not the stairs, Finn," I dismissed. "This locket — the symbols! Just wearing this damn thing is like a massive weight around my neck!" And before I practically clawed at the chain, Finn moved to stand behind me and parted my hair to unclasp the necklace.

"I know it's frustrating," he reasoned. "but your mum gave it to you in a dream… So maybe we've just got to wait for another."

I took the locket from Finn's hands and secured it in my back pocket. "Another bloody locket?" I asked in disbelief.

"Another _dream_, Dem," he clarrified, appearing slightly amused.

By the that time, we'd just begun to approach the Great Hall, and I took a moment to calm myself. I'd never really been one to become stressed out so easily, but I'd say that's what I was. I only hoped people like Finn could deal with me and help me maintain my sanity…or what was left.

"Let's just talk about something else, eh?" he suggested brightly. "Erm… Gotten a date to the ball yet?"

"No," it came out more harshly than intended. So I managed to compose myself before asking him, "Have you?"

"Well actually… Yes-look-Cedric!" he rushed out afterwards. But I followed where he was pointing and, sure enough, there stood the tall dark-haired Hufflepuff making his way down the hall.

I turned back to face Finn who was looking rather nervous. "What's gotten into you?"

"Sorry," he calmed himself. "I just — I should've waited and made sure you got yourself a date first. That way if worse came to worst, you could've gone with me."

"_Finn_," I said fondly, truly touched he would do that. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'll find someone."

That brought a mischevious grin to his face. "In that case, might wanna try Pretty Boy." And with that, he'd pushed me back, knocking me off my feet and I was sent to collide straight into Cedric. The both of us had fallen to the floor, my legs laying over his torso. And just when I thought to hex Finn for that, I found he'd already run off on to the grounds.

"You alright?" Cedric asked me, re-capturing my attention.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured, removing my legs from their previous position on him. "Are you?"

"Course," he insisted, getting to his feet and helping me up with a single arm. "You're not exactly much of a weight." Couldn't argue with that, and standing at only five foot two didn't pose as much of a threat either.

Unsure of what to say next, Cedric and I simply ended up smiling at one another for a good minute until I finally had to laugh, as did he. And then I got to thinking about…well, I still needed a date after all… And things couldn't possibly have gotten anymore awkward.

"Cedric?" He immediately perked up, brows raised urging me to go on. "You…have a date to the Yule Ball?" But even as it came out, I thought about how pathetic it all was. Cedric Diggory was sure to be one of the most handsome bachelors at Hogwarts. How could he have _not_ gotten a date by now? And the small smile he wore only confirmed it before he spoke.

"Yeah, got her just this morning actually," he told me, seemingly genuinely pleased with the bird. But his smile then faded and he appeared slightly crestfallen. "It's too bad they're not allowing champions to go with champions, eh?"

Well that was just perfect. I couldn't even go with Harry! Actually…what was I thinking? Harry Potter without a date? It had probably only been me without one at that point. "It really is," I agreed whole-heartedly.

"I'll save a dance for you though?" It came out as almost a question, but he shared a warm smile with me nonetheless, which I returned.

"I'd like that," I told him honestly. "But I've actually got to get going now. Still trying to work out this damn egg."

Cedric nodded. "Any luck?"

"Not at all," I admitted. "You?"

"Nothing, but you'll be the first to know if I ever receive a break through."

"Cedric, you don't have t —"

"Oh yes, I do," he said shortly, and then lowered his voice for what was said next. "Harry told me it was your idea to tip me off on those dragons. It's the least I can do."

"Fair enough then," I smiled. "I'll see you around, Cedric."

"See you, Demetria."

So with that, I'd finally made my way on to the grounds illuminated by the moonlight, and walked toward the docks. And once I'd bounded aboard the ship, I immediately caught sight of Viktor perched upon the starboard railing with the golden egg in his hands.

"You _are _aware that staring at it won't solve it, correct?" I asked in jest, Viktor looking up from the egg and offering me a smirk. I took my usual position upon the railing with one leg dangling over the lake and the other hovering over the deck.

"As long as _you _are avare that if you do not play for Tutshill, you haff a promising career as a comedian," he countered, placing the egg between us.

I chuckled. "Yeah, well then maybe I wouldn't have so many ludi momcheta to handle." **(**_**crazy boys**_**)** And Viktor laughed but stopped when he noticed how serious I was being. But he didn't have to ask, because I was already asking: "How d'you know when someone's being genuine with you?"

He released a sigh like a river of thought before he spoke. "Are you meaning if they speak to me for only my fame?" I nodded. "Vun nefer knows for sure. But if they are genuine…you feel it." And then he gave a smile, so small and so briefly, but it was there. I could see it even through the darkness, and then I knew exactly who he was thinking of.

"So are you going with her to the ball?" I bluntly inquired.

He looked to me in mild surprise. "I…haff no idea vhat you are speaking of," was his poor excuse.

"Finn and I saw you in the library with Hermione Granger last week." I smirked all-knowingly.

"Vell in _that _case… Yes." And then the grin was back. Actually, it was more like beaming. I'd never seen Viktor like this when it came to a bird.

"You really fancy her, eh?"

"Vell I don't have many girls to do the comparing to," he reminded. "But there is something special about her."

But Viktor's dreamy gaze was brought back into reality upon hearing the Norwegian-accented droll of of Nikolai Pavel. "Oskar," he addressed his sallow crony. "is this not touching?"

"So very, Nikolai," was one of the very few things I'd ever heard Oskar Kowalski say. But there he was speaking, in all of his opposing Russian accented glory_…_or infamy, rather. "Ve vouldn't _really _vant to ruin it…vould ve?"

And after feigning thought for a moment, Nikolai answered him with: "Of course we would!"

"Oh sod off, Pavel," I snapped at him. "Shouldn't you two be off harrassing young first years to go to the ball with you?"

"For the information which is yours, Harris, we have already acquired dates older than eleven," replied Nikolai dismissively.

"Twelve, then?" I pressed, he and Oskar only getting closer. My hands instinctively gripped the egg tighter, and Nikolai noticed.

"What is the matter, Lille Prinsesse? You are not trusting of us around your precious egg?"

My mouth didn't utter a single thought that ran through my mind, as I internally shouted at them for being such pricks. On the outside, I only continued to stare them down, my hands protectively around the egg and my teeth gritted.

"Come now, Prinsesse," said Oskar. "You are like a sister to all of us." His hand reached out to brush my cheek, and that was when I did exactly what they'd been hoping for.

Both of my hands left the egg, one to swat away Oskar's and the other to push him away against his chest. Nikolai's swooped in and knocked the egg off the railing. Neither Viktor's hands nor my leg that dangled over the lake, could save it as we watched it plummet to the black waters. The splash emitted was enough to bring up a mist which hit my leg. Nikolai and Oskar walked away, chortling at their mission accomplished.

"Godric dammit," I swore, swinging both legs on to the railing and rising up.

"Demetria!" Viktor grabbed on to my ankle. "Vhat is it you think you are doing?"

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, come get me," I ordered him, stripping myself of my Tutshill Tornados pullover which left me in my long-sleeved shirt.

And though reluctant, Viktor released his grip on my ankle. "I am making it five!" he warned.

I threw my sweatshirt behind me on deck along with the combat boots I'd slid off, and dove through the already disturbed, glassy surface of the lake. I felt as though my heart had been jolted awake and re-started as my body was submerged in the frigid waters. Luckily, I was used to temperatures far colder than that. And though I could spot the egg shimmering easily enough, it seemed that no matter how hard I kicked and grabbed at the water, I couldn't catch up to it. But it didn't stop me from cutting my way through, hoping to Merlin that I could hold my breath long enough.

I hadn't even thought to remove my wand from my boot and cast the Bubble-Head Charm. I hadn't thought of anything really, other than diving in to fetch the egg. I guess you could say I tried not to be too dependent on magic. Then again, you could also argue that sometimes I simply act on impulse and forget about all magical options.

Regardless, I was actually surprised to find that when I'd reached the egg, it still had yet to hit the ground. But I'd spoke too soon, for it did touch down on the sandy bottom. And not only that, but it cracked open upon the impact from a rock. And not only _that_, but rather than the cry of banshees, there came a chorus of eerily beautiful voices singing:

"_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour _— _the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._"

But in that moment, I found myself so caught up in unraveling the clue, I'd grabbed the egg and involuntarily inhaled through my nose. And then, from the shock, my mouth was next to draw in a breath of water. _No! I won't drown! Come on, you can do this! Just keep going! You can probably make…make it… My head… W-what's happening? No… No, I can't drown! I have to get back! But I dunno if _— I could feel the oxygen escaping from my lungs, the water just beginning to fill inside me. _Viktor! Someone! My…throat… No! Fight it…Demetria… But I _— _Someone…_

Just before I'd fallen victim to the darkness, I mustered all my remaining strength, my energy, and I knew I did something, something with magic — I could feel the vibration in the lake. I just didn't know what it was I'd done.

–

I was awake…but my eyes remained closed. Full, even breaths seemed enough of a struggle at the moment, as though I were just learning how to do so. And though I didn't know where I was, I _did _know that I certainly wasn't on the ship. But just then, there came the distant sounding of a door opening followed by a collection of footsteps.

"Viktor!" I could detect Grigor's voice calling out. Viktor must have been seated by me already, for I sensed him nearby. "Vhere is Pavel? He has gone too far!" Which was followed by a stream of Bulgarian curses.

"Compose yourself, Poliakoff," came the demand of Karkaroff. "Nikolai Pavel cannot be held responsible." This only ignited another fire in Grigor's native tongue.

"So that's it?" came Finn, outraged. "He gets no punishment?"

"He will, certainly," Karkaroff assured, growing nearer. "Not for nearly drowning young Demetria, but for what could have happened and what _did _happen to Tournament property."

"But, sir, she —"

"Viktor, did he hold her under the water against her will?" Karkaroff cut him off, the latter presumably giving a simple shake of his head. "Then you understand I cannot hold Pavel responsible for her mistake."

I began to wonder when would be a good moment to 'wake up'. The breathing was certainly coming easily enough now that I could have opened my eyes without difficulty. But hearing the opening of the doors once again, I decided to wait just a bit longer. Especially upon hearing everyone's greeting to the owner of those new footsteps — Dumbledore.

"How is Durmstrang's young champion recovering?" he inquired, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Just fine, I should think," said Viktor. "This Madam Pomfrey has not told me othervise."

"Albus, it is nothing too serious," Karkaroff insisted, almost as though it were an embarrassment to have an injury come upon one of his students. "I thank you for your concern, but so much is almost unnecessary."

_Speak for yourself. I nearly died!_

"Believe me, Igor, if what Mr. Krum has to say is as I have been lead to believe, it is more than concern which will be necessary," said Dumbledore somewhat distantly. I mean, physically he was certainly close, but one could almost hear the memories in his tone. "Mr. Krum, if you would please…?"

"Vell vhat I know is that bevore I could safe her, the water began to do the rocking of the ship," That explained the vibration I'd felt… Or well, actually it didn't. But at least I hadn't just been imagining it. "And then just bevore she floated to the surface, there vas a flash of light from underneath the water, and… Vell, I had thought for a short moment I heard a…morska sirena."

"Mr. Krum…?" was what I assumed to be Dumbledore's polite version of asking him to translate it into English.

"A mermaid."

I had little next to no clue why 'more than concern was necessary' for that. He'd probably just heard the egg's song. But then again, that would've meant that I would have seen the flash of light… What in Godric's bleeding name was going on? Thankfully, Finn didn't hesitate to voice my thoughts as though he'd been listening in.

"What does it mean, Dumbledore — Professor — sir?" he inquired, floundering for the appropriate title to address the Headmaster by.

There was a long pause before he replied. "I am afraid I cannot disclose such information until I make certain it is true. I expect to speak with Miss Harris…" Another gap in his words; everyone must have been waiting for me to wake up. And I thought it to be an oppertune moment, but it was Dumbledore's words which stopped me. "…tomorrow morning, to give her time to collect her bearings. I am quite certain any one of you gentlemen will do well to deliver the message — eight o'clock in my office."

I imagined one of the blokes — if not all three — nodded, for Dumbledore had bid them all farewell before his exiting footsteps echoed. Following his, there came several other pairs. And because I was hardly in the mood for questioning, I waited until I felt certain there was no one remaining to sit up and open my eyes, only to find a worried set of baby blue ones staring back.

–

The Weasley twins were making their way toward the Gryffindor common room after a particularly tedious Potions class. And no sooner had they stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait entrance did they find Ron just completing a card castle out of an Exploding Snap pack, only to have the whole lot blow up, singeing his eyebrows. The twins began chuckling and strode over to their younger brother who was now feeling his brows to check the damage.

"Nice look, Ron," was Fred's cheeky comment. "Go well with your dress robes, that will."

He didn't seem at all phased, and so Fred and George simply took seats at the table along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The pair wasted no time as George promptly asked, "Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" They wanted to borrow Ron's owl to send what they hoped would be their final letter to Ludo Bagman before he coughed up the money he owed them.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," Ron said. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred bitingly, the sarcasm easily detected…not to mention, expected.

"Because _we _want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," George told him somewhat uncharacteristically.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" Ron pried, but Fred quickly nipped it.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," he threatened with a wave of his hand. And eager to change the subject, he asked, "So…you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

To which Ron defeatedly replied, "Nope."

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones'll be taken," Fred warned him.

"Who're you going with, then?" Ron continued to inquire.

"Angelina," stated Fred without a trace of embarrassment. George didn't tell Ron that they'd actually both had yet to ask anyone to the ball.

"What?" Ron appeared taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred, turning his head and calling out her name across the common room.

Angelina Johnson, who had been engaged in conversation with Alicia Spinnet by the fire, looked over and called back, "What?"

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

It raised an appraising look upon her face, but she agreed. "All right, then." And then she turned back to continue chatting with Alicia, her lips twisted up in a bit of a grin.

"There you go, piece of cake," said Fred to Harry and Ron who were currently in a state of awe. Fred then yawned and got to his feet, George mirroring the action. "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on…"

And so the two left the common room, with intentions of making their way to the Owlery. Well, at least that was what _George's _intentions were. However, once the twins were out of earshot by the Fat Lady, Fred stopped abruptly.

"Oi! Why didn't you ask Alicia to the ball?"

George appeared taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered. "I — What're you on about?"

"When I asked Angelina!" said Fred as though it were obvious. "You know Alicia fancies the bogies out of you — Poor bird's probably in shambles now that you haven't asked her."

"I'm sure she's fine," George assured his twin. "And…yeah, alright, I thought about asking her but…she's probably already going with someone."

But truth be told, George had not at all even considered asking Alicia to the ball. In fact, all he could think about when Fred had mentioned dates was the true girl he wanted to attend the ball with. Well, that and hoping Alicia didn't have the bollocks to ask him herself.

"Yeah, and Ron's going with Fleur Delacour," retorted Fred sarcastically. "You know as well as I do she'll turn down every bloke unless he's got red hair, blue eyes, dangerously handsome good looks, and isn't me," He puffed out his chest and feigned arrogance before dropping his shoulders, hand placed encouragingly on his twin's back. "Now, go back in there and ask her before someone else does and you're stuck with…Moaning Myrtle!"

"She's a ghost, mind you," George was playing stupid with Fred then. "She can't actually be someone's da —"

"You know what I mean," The phrase 'all joking aside' literally occured in Fred's eyes then. He was looking to his twin with complete seriousness. "You don't want to end up like ickle Ronniekins scrouging around for a date at the last minute, do you?" He didn't even have to answer. "No, you don't! Now, Alicia's a fit bird who's bound to say yes. All you've gotta do is ask and _bam_ — Fabian's your uncle."

George, mainly to appease his twin, agreed. "All right!"

"There ya go, Georgie!" exclaimed Fred, patting George on the back and leading the way back to the common room. "Now let's get you a date."

Upon arriving back outside the Fat Lady's portrait, Fred brought up the question George had hoped they'd left at the end of the corridor. However, he was hardly paying attention enough to remember that Fred was currently asking about Alicia.

"So what's the _real _reason you didn't ask her?"

And so George replied as though he were asking about who he'd truly been hoping to attend the ball with. "Wager I've just been too shy," he confessed. "Besides, there's not a doubt in my mind that she hasn't got a date already, what with her being champion and all —"

"_Champion_?" Fred parroted in shock.

"That is not the password," stated the Fat Lady airily.

"D-did I…?" But George didn't even have to finish his sentence. He could feel his ears heating up, undoubtedly reddening as well, as Fred looked to him with a mischievously lop-sided grin.

"George Fabian Weasley —"

"That is not the password."

"— you sly dog," Fred finished approvingly. "When did you plan on telling me you were asking Demetria?"

George relaxed now, smiling along with his twin. "I reckoned when we walked into the Great Hall arm-in-arm would be as good a time as any." Fred playfully nudged him in the shoulder.

"Well, I feel rotten leaving Alicia with Ron, _but_…" He pretended to be deep in thought before saying: "Let's go get your champion, mate."

But just as he began to nudge his twin in the direction of the nearest staircase, George planted his feet firmly on the floor to stop him. "Didn't you hear a word I said?" he asked his brother who only stared with a rather blank expression. "She's probably already got someone, Fred. And why wouldn't she?" Fred released him and ceased pushing as he dropped down to take a seat on one of the moving staircase steps. Fred plopped down next to him. "She's champion…daughter of one of the most famous Quidditch players of all time… She's smart, she's fun…funny…and —"

"— Cute."

George chuckled at what he believed to be an understatement. "More than cute," he corrected his brother who only mirrored his grin. George finally snapped out of his dream-like state to say, "Oi! I saw her first."

"_Actually_, by the time you got there, I was already flashing her," said Fred cheekily, earning a swat to the gut by George. "Flashing my wand, Georgie," he added, the two still smiling. "So you fancy her, then?"

"Well I —" This was one thought that hadn't occured to George. Certainly, there was an attraction…but just slightly… After all, he barely knew her.

Luckily, he didn't have to answer…for the time being, anyway. For sounding from below them, the twins could detect the wrenching open of large wooden doors and an angry bloke shouting in another language. They didn't think anything of it until George heard two things which caused him to race to the first floor — Demetria and hospital wing.

–

"George," it came out in a gasp, heart practically leaping from my chest. "what the — what the hell are you doing here…besides scaring the mickey out of me?"

"I think the better question is, what the hell are _you _doing here?" interrogated George. And allow me to mention he clearly had no intentions of backing away from my face. That is, until Fred finally stepped in.

"Well give her some breathing room or she'll never make it out of here," he told his twin, also having to physical pull him away from me. "So what _does_ bring you to this neck of the castle, Princess — a hangnail?"

I actually had to laugh at that one…and roll my eyes, of course. "If only," I told him.

"Well nothing appears to be broken…no cast or anything…" George, at this point, was just babbling to himself while circling the hospital bed and surveying me. "Or maybe Madam Pomfrey just hasn't bandaged you up yet…What if I touched something and re-broke it…What if I just broke it the first time…?"

"George!" Fred and I finally both said in unison. The redhead looked up at me with a childlike fear in his eyes. "George, I'm fine," I insisted. "It was just an ickle incident but it's over now. I just needed to rest."

"No, if you need to rest you go to your bed," George continued to press on. "If you're in the hospital wing, it must've been something horri —"

"I almost drowned!" I had to say it, I just couldn't take much more. But to see the look on his face — both of their faces, actually — almost made me wish I hadn't. "One of the blokes from my school knocked the Golden Egg into the lake and I went to go get it. That's it, I'm fine."

"That's _it_?" parroted George, in shock. "You make it said as though nothing bloody happened!"

"Nothing _did _happ — !"

"You nearly died! That counts as something happening!" Fred remained quiet during all of this, just watching his brother yell and scold. I wonder if he felt the same. "Demetria, how could you be so…careless?"

"_Careless_?" Now it was my turn for shock. "Just where do you get the nerve to speak to me like that? I hardly know you and you tell me what I did for the egg was _careless_!"

"What you could've done to yourself is careless! Blimey, you must really have some kind of death wish! First you put your name into the Goblet, you take a dragon head on, and now _this_! What's next?"

I could see George regretted what he said as soon as he let it register that he'd said it. "_First you put your name into the Goblet_." I swore to Godric, if one more person had the audacity to accuse me of putting my name in that damn goblet… And whether he meant it or not, I truly didn't care at the moment. I shouldn't have even been associating with people like George or his brother. Soon I'd be a Death Eater and they'd hate me…and I was letting them get all too close to me that they then felt the opposite.

"Demetria, I didn't mean —"

"Get. Out." No more yelling. My voice was soft, my tone like ice. I made sure the words cut deep.

"Please, I'm sorry —"

"One of us has to walk away and I'm unable to."

"Then you'll have to stay and listen because I refuse to leave without you hearing me out."

"Then stay," I told him, a small smile touching his baby blue eyes. "But I'm leaving." I was certain I'd never gotten out of a bed faster in my life. This is counting all those Chrismases as a child, mind you. And seeing as how I didn't really have to stay in the hospital wing, I made a break for the large wooden exit doors. Not really running, but walking fast enough to get away from either Weasley twins if they tried to advance on me, which they did. But after countless calls of my name and reaches for my hand, I imagined Fred had finally stopped his brother and let me walk out. Because that was exactly what I did before quickly navigating my way out of the castle and out on to the grounds, where I started running to the ship. And once on deck and not even aware of what time it was, only that the sun was still tucked away, I made my way to the lantern-lit bowels of the ship and quickly located the bunk-bed I shared with Viktor. But upon trying to wake him, I found that was not necessary, for he was already awake.

"Demetria," he said a bit groggily. Perhaps I'd caught him just as he was about to doze off. "You are alright?"

"Yes yes, just peachy," I insisted shortly.

"Vhy is it you are so…jumpy?" he continued to question.

"'Cause we've got to talk about the egg!" I locked my combat boot-clad feet on a spot in the ladder just to retrieve said sparkling egg from my top bunk. "C'mon! I've got to tell you about what I heard!" A soft _thud_ was emitted upon my jumping back down to the deck.

"Can it not vait?" asked Viktor. "Dumbledore vishes to speak with you in his office in but a few hours. You vill need your rest."

"I rested plenty in the hospital wing, Vik!" I assured him before retrieving a wool jumper from the floor beside his bunk and tossing it on his head. "Now get a shirt on and let's move!"

"Can we not speak _here_?" Now he was just being whiny.

"No!" My voice was quiet, but urgent. Needless to say, I was not a very patient person. "I don't want scum like Pavel listening in! Hurry up!"

Viktor groaned but I saw him reluctantly getting up from his bunk as I was leaving. And it wasn't until he, too, emerged above deck that he threw the maroon jumper over his perfectly toned chest.

"Vell, vhat is it?" He looked to me expectantly. But rather than explain what I'd heard, I reenacted it. I softly sang the egg's song and watched Viktor's face light up in surprise. When I'd finished, he was silent for a moment, the only sound being the waters rocking the ship ever-so-slightly. "You vished to tell me…you can sing?"

"What? No! Viktor, were you even listening?"

He chuckled. "Yes, of course…you just…" he grew more serious then. "…you sounded like the morska sirena I thought I heard."

"That's because you _did _hear it, Vik! You must've heard the egg's song too!" I told him fervently. And upon seeing the puzzled expression on his face, I continued to explain before he could even ask. "When the egg opened underwater, _that _was the song it sang. Everything after that — the light, the vibration — I can't really explain that 'cause I dunno for myself. But this song…it's the clue to the second task!"

Viktor looked as though he was just barely keeping up. Apparently, he was far more hung up on understanding the light and vibration. But after a moment, things seemed to click for him. But as he started to decode the song, I was already doing the same. "The morska sirena…they have taken something you vill miss…and if you do not find it in one hour…"

"Too late, it's gone, it won't come back," I recited.


	8. Chapter 7: The Voice of Reason

_**Chapter Seven**_

_The Voice of Reason_

:.:.:

Needless to say, sleep had not been an option after decoding the egg's clue. In fact, I found myself seated on the ship's starboard railing until the sun began to untuck itself from behind the horizon line, despite the snow which now coated the grounds. It would have coated the ship's deck too, had it not been for Sasha's Charm to prevent such an incident. But anyway, even when it came time for breakfast, the blokes ascending from below deck, I didn't move — didn't even say a word. That was until Grigor had scurried over, appearing rather disheveled.

"Demetria," he began tentatively. "I must ask a favor from you." And in reply, I simply nodded for him to continue. "Vell, this Yule Ball…it is soon, yes? And I thought…vell vould you —"

"Sure, Grig!" I came off quite overly enthusiastic, hence Grigor's widened eyes and slight flinch backward, but I couldn't help it. Finally, I no longer had to worry about finding a _date _to that sodding ball! And the only reason I hadn't considered Grigor sooner was because I just figured everyone but myself had already acquired their dates.

Grigor recovered from my near-shouting and told me rather excitedly, "Oh, thank you, Dem! Just make sure it is someone good looking, eh?" And with a nudge to my shoulder, he was off, catching up with the rest of the gents on their way to the castle. All I could do was sit there in mild shock. One of my own best mates hadn't even asked me to the ball…in fact, I was fairly certain he'd just asked me to ask some bird _for _him! But how could I possibly do so when I had yet to find my own date? Son of a banshee…

It wasn't long before I decided I _did _want some breakfast after all. So I made my way off the ship and trailed far behind my fellow students before making it to the Great Hall, which recently acquired elaborate Christmas decorations. But no sooner had I done so, did a certain redheaded duo appear to block my entrance.

"Move, Weasleys," I demanded. It was true I was no longer angry with George, but it was also true I shouldn't have been getting so close to them…or to anyone else who wasn't related to someone and/or destined to become a Death Eater. But especially not those two. I wasn't sure why, there was just something about them. But rather than tell them that, it was much easier to pretend I was still mad. "I have nothing more to say to either of you."

"Now, don't you reckon you're just…over-reacting…just a _bit_?" George seemed to be far more careful with his words after the last ones he tripped over got us into this situation.

"Especially since I didn't do anything wrong," added Fred with a charming smile.

"Absolutely not," I told them both with a stone-cold expression. "Now move or I'll hex you both into next week."

And though reluctant, the twins stepped aside with a look of defeat, and I strode past them and over to my usual spot at the Slytherin table. And already seated and eating, were the same blokes I'd been sitting with…plus a rather pug-faced girl with short, jet black hair, one arm through Draco's.

"Draco, it's been a while," I greeted, taking my seat across from him, the girl, and Adrian, and beside Finn and Viktor. Grigor had also joined our side of the table recently, sitting beside Adrian. "Who's your bird?"

Draco's expression turned sour for a split second, before clearly putting back on the forced smile. "She's not my bird," he said it rather exasperatedly, as though it were the hundredth time…and maybe it was. He unlatched his arm from the girl's and explained. "This is Pansy Parkinson — my date to the Yule Ball, and _nothing more_." The last part was directed toward Pansy.

But all she did was smile. "Oh, Drakey, you under-estimate our love," she cooed, and I thanked Merlin I hadn't eaten anything yet, because it surely would've come back after hearing that.

"Well at least you've _got _a date," I groaned. Adrian seemed to perk up a bit at this, even Draco's expression practically spelling out his regret of asking Pansy when he could've asked me. "Without a dance partner to open the ball, it looks as though this Champion's faking an illness come time."

"Demetria, if you truly need a date so desperately, I'm sure Pansy would understand," assured Draco, his eyes wide in urgency.

"No, Pansy would most certainly _not _understand!" she argued, shoving her arm back through Draco's.

"You know, Demetria," Adrian began already flashing a small, winning smile. "I haven't asked anyone yet, _and _I'm rather light on my feet…"

"Adrian, would you really go to the ball with me?" There was actually excitement laced within my tone. Although thanks to Grigor, the 'finding a date' situation was technically still not over. But it's much less stressful when the date is not for yourself.

"Oi! That's _my_ line," Adrian's face was serious, but he was teasing and I couldn't help but smile. "Demetria, would you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

"Of course, Adrian, you're a life-saver!" I told him, completely relieved. Although…there was actually still one problem…related to the ball, at least: I needed a —

"My pleasure," he said, genuinely grinning from ear to ear. "So what color dress do you plan on wearing?"

— _dress_.

"Er, I'll have to get back to you on that. Right now, I've got to —" But as I racked my brain for an excuse to leave, I remembered I did have one…which after grabbing Finn's wrist to check his watch, I realized I was late for. Sure enough, looking over at the staff table, Dumbledore was no where to be found. "—_ Shite_." was all I said, and under my breath, before shooting up from the bench quickly leaving the Great Hall. I was supposed to meet Dumbledore in his office at eight o'clock to discuss the incident from the previous day. I just hoped 8:30 worked just as well for him.

I located the Headmaster's Tower with relative ease, having remembered it's location from Fred and George's tour. However, upon reaching the location where the large, stone gargoyle should have been, I found the gargoyle already gone, the spiral staircase revealed. Dumbledore must have left it open for me, because the twins had told me a password was required in order for the gargoyle to move. Nonetheless, I climbed up the steps until I came to the Headmaster's actual office. This was one location not included on the Weasleys' tour.

It was a large, circular room with many windows and many portraits, probably of previous headmasters and headmistresses. A portrait of Albus Dumbledore himself hung above and behind his desk. The room also held home to a number of spindly tables upon which were set delicate looking silver instruments that whirred and emitted small puffs of smoke. There was also what appeared to be an incredible collection of books, and even a rather large and brilliantly red phoenix which Dumbledore was tending to. But just as I was about to walk deeper into his office, a voice stopped me from doing so…and it wasn't Dumbledore's.

"I am sorry, Dumbledore," came my own headmaster, Karkaroff now in view as he strode over to Dumbledore. "but I have told you this before — I know nothing of which you speak."

"I am well aware of what you've told me, Karkaroff," The choice of words themselves sounded frustrated, but Dumbledore did not. His tone was that of quite the opposite actually. "I suppose I'm just finding it hard to believe that in all four years Miss Harris has been enrolled as your student, this has never come to your attention."

I didn't realize my nearly drowning was such a turn of events around here.

"Perhaps this is because an incident such as this has never occured during those four years," replied Karkaroff sharply. And though I couldn't make out their expressions from the distance (and also because I was keeping out of sight), I imagined Dumbledore had shot him a rather unapproving one because Karkaroff quickly apologized. "Apologies, Albus… I simply — Nothing has ever lead me to even consider this, you understand. Even now, this can be no proof. And you have wished to bring Harris in to see if she knows this? My dear friend, perhaps you are doing the looking too closely."

Considering they never even mentioned whatever it was they were discussing, I almost thought they knew I was listening. And despite my best efforts to attempt and decode their conversation as silence lingered in the air, I remained unsuccessful. And that was when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Perhaps…you are right, Karkaroff."

_No, he's not! _The voice in my head practically screamed. _This requires further discussion!_

But even if Dumbledore hadn't agreed, the conversation would have ended right there regardless. Because, as though he'd heard my thoughts, Karkaroff turned to find me standing at the top of the staircase. "Demetria," he said. And if he was at all surprised, he hid it well. "how long have you been standing there?"

"I just arrived," I lied with ease, pretending to move a foot from the last step. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Dumbledore."

Both headmasters made their way toward me, though only Dumbledore offered a small smile. "Quite all right, Miss Harris," he assured. "I only wished to check on your condition. How are you feeling?"

Oh, brilliant. Now I wasn't even going to get to speak with Dumbledore about whatever he just spoke to Karkaroff about! Maybe if I'd actually arrived on time… "Good as new." That wasn't a lie though.

"Pleased to hear it," said Dumbledore genuinely, a twinkle in his blue eyes behind those half-moon spectacles. "We _are_ counting on you to open the Yule Ball very soon, after all."

"In a matter of days, in fact," Karkaroff suddenly grew rather anxious. "Demetria, you are prepared, are you not?"

"Yeah, 'course, sir," And he visibly relaxed upon hearing so. When the silence returned, I decided to make my departure. "Well if I'm not needed, I s'pose I'd best be going."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, Miss Harris."

I merely smiled in reply and turned to make my way down the stairs. And I supposed it was time my list of priorities needed a bit of re-arranging considering Karkaroff was right — the ball was only a few days away. So where in the bloody hell was I supposed to get a dress? And then it hit me — I did have _one_ hope.

Rather than run about the castle like a hippogriff without a head, I decided to wait until lunch time to locate my one chance at a dress. So when the bell sounded throughout Hogwarts and across its grounds, the blokes and I marched across the snow and into the Great Hall, and I broke off from the herd to do so. Making a bee-line for the Gryffindor table, my eyes immediately began scanning for flaming red hair. And then I found it — _her _— Ginny.

"Hi, Ginny," I greeted brightly. I know, I know, I cut her brothers off and not her. But I needed Ginny, and she was easily the best — and sort of the only — female friend I had.

She was seated around a group of her friends who all appeared rather taken aback. But Ginny responded casually, mirroring my grin. "Hey, Demetria, what brings you to this side of the hall?"

"The Yule Ball actually," I told her, Ginny's expression falling.

"I'm not sure I can help you there, then. I can't go unless someone older asks me and no one's done so."

"Ace!" I exclaimed, and her disappointment shifted to confusion. "No, I mean — Would you like to go with a mate of mine?"

"Are you serious?" she fervently asked me. All I had to do was nod. "Yeah, that would be great!" The girls seated around Ginny all whispered to one another, the envy evident in their faces.

"So you'll need a dress, right?" I pressed.

"Oh, right." And once again, Ginny appeared crestfallen. At first, I was unsure as to why, but I seemed to recall Draco mentioning something about the Weasleys and their financial issues.

"Well I need one too, and I'm rubbish at dress shopping because — Well, I've just never had to. So d'you want to go together?" But just as Ginny opened her mouth, probably to tell me she couldn't afford a new dress, my own words stopped her's. "I'm buying you a dress, Ginny Weasley, and don't even try telling me not to."

For a moment, she looked as though she might. But only a moment more, and Ginny's face was glowing again as she got up from her spot on the bench. "Well then we'd better get going."

"Don't you have classes?" I asked with a knowing grin. Not that I truly cared.

"Professor Binns won't even know I'm gone," she replied slyly, and we made our way out of the Great Hall. "C'mon, I know a secret passage to Hogsmeade." As did I, once again thanks to her twin brothers.

We spent the walk up to the third floor talking about Grigor, who was now Ginny's date to the Yule Ball. Or well, I talked and she asked about him. And once we came to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, Ginny gave the password — "_Dissendium_." — and the hump on the witch opened to reveal a short slide. Ginny signaled for me to go first, and when I did, I found myself in an underground tunnel with only one direction to take. Ginny joined me in said tunnel shortly and we began walking.

"Just how long will this take, exactly?" I asked curiously.

"I believe it's about an hour on foot," she replied.

"Then I guess it's a good thing we left early."

"Well that, and you shouldn't pass up an oppertunity to miss History of Magic," she said and we laughed.

"I s'pose it must be a requirement to be painfully boring in order to be a History of Magic teacher then, because the one back at Durmstrang certainly is," I shared.

"D'you have the same classes as us over there?" inquired Ginny.

"I should think so," I said. "Although…I reckon Hogwarts doesn't offer Dark Arts?"

"You mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she asked innocently. "Yeah, we've got that! The position's cursed though — we haven't been able to keep a professor for it. Mad-Eye Moody's teaching it this year, but I'm sure he won't last."

"Yeah? We don't have Defense Against…" I tried explaining again. "The class is just Dark Arts."

"Oh…" She seemed unsure of what to say next for a moment. "So d'you learn to…_use _Dark magic?"

"Merlin, no!" I assured, and it seemed to ease her. "In fact, I'm sure it's rather similar to your class. They just teach us about the magic itself, not the defence part. But, well…I s'pose the defence is sort of implied."

"That makes sense," she reasoned contentedly. "Is that your best class?"

"Well, I mean, I'm sort of one of the top students at my school…" I admitted rather modestly. "But if I had to choose my best class…it would probably be Potions. I was actually moved to the fifth year Potions class."

"Wow, you really are good," Ginny seemed genuinely impressed. "You may have to lend me a hand with some of my Potions homework sometime."

"You're, what, a third year?" I assumed and Ginny's nod confirmed it. "That won't be a problem. Feel free to ask anytime," And she mirrored the grin I offered her. "Is Defense _your_ best class?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'P' at the end. "But I feel like all witches and wizards are supposed to be good at it, y'know? Like it doesn't really require any skill. Potions, Transfiguration — not everyone's good at things like that."

"Maybe they are, but that doesn't make it any less skillfull," I convinced. "That's what Aurors are best at, isn't it? D'you reckon any witch or wizard could be an Auror?"

"I s'pose you're right about that," she said, another grateful smile coming through. "Y'know, Demetria, you really ought to just transfer to Hogwarts."

I had been so afraid someone would suggest that. "I really don't think my grandad'd approve," I tried to explain. "We're all each other has left and — Well, he really just wants me to follow in his footsteps. That's why I'm going to Durmstrang in the first place."

"Oh, I see," said Ginny. "So where did your parents go?"

The very same place I honestly wished I could have gone. "Here — Hogwarts."

"Then maybe you could try reasoning with your grandad," she suggested. "Tell him you want to go where your parents went. I know it's probably not my place to say this but…well, I think you should be able to go where you want. Your grandad'll still love you no matter what."

_He'll still love me if I turn out to be a Gryffindor refusing to become a Death Eater, befriend the so-called "enemies", and go on to become a professional Quidditch player?_

If all that were true, I just couldn't imagine my own grandfather loving me anymore.

:.:.:

It took us, as it turned out, exactly an hour to reach the cellar of Honeydukes and casually slip out and into the streets of Hogsmeade. Although it felt much shorter of a time thanks to Ginny's commendable ability to keep a conversation flowing. And as it turned out, we had quite a lot in common. Aside, of course, from the fact that she was rather excited about the dress shopping, among other differences. But this difference was one I was thankful for, considering I would've had little next to no idea what I was doing had I been there alone. And by 'there', I meant Gladrags Wizardwear — a shop I'd passed many times, but never actually been inside. When Ginny and I walked in, it was nearly deserted.

"I know everything looks an ickle bit flashy or quirky, but trust me, that's not all there is," she assured me, and I followed her toward the back of the store which had been devoted solely to dresses. She immediately was magnetized to a rack of many different colored fabrics and began looking through. "D'you have any idea what you're looking for?"

"Karkaroff said something red," I told her. My eye then caught sight of a rack seemingly dedicated to dresses with an incredibly distasteful amount of sequins. "And nothing too…blinding."

Ginny looked over and followed my gaze to the rack, chuckling. "Karkaroff said that?"

"No, that one was from me." I wondered how disgusted my face must have looked for Ginny to continue laughing at it. But all I could think was, _what have I gotten myself into?_

:.:.:

"I love it!" I gushed at my reflection in the mirror of a dressing room. I'd been trapped in it for practically the entire time. "This is the one! Let's get it!"

But Ginny stood, unconvinced and smirking, in the door frame. "You do realize you've said that about every dress you've tried on?"

"I have not!" I insisted, placing both my hands over my chest to feign shock. "And I mean it — I really do love this one!"

"No, you don't," she saw right through me. "You just want to get out of here."

"Well can you blame me?" I dropped the act and really looked at myself in the mirror. It felt like the millionth red dress I'd tried on and it felt like they were all the same. If it were up to me, I would've walked out with the first one I tried on. But Ginny insisted none of them were "the one". "How did you find yours so fast?"

"Woman's intuition," she shrugged and walked off. "Try on the next one and I'll see if I can find any other red ones!"

I shut the door and slipped out of the dress I had on. Reluctantly, I reached for the next, shimmied into it, and then just…stopped, and stared at my reflection. I think I knew what Ginny meant now. There was just something about this dress — the line of sequins diagonal across the bust, the way it hugged my waist, the way it opened in the back with the two straps, the single beaded strap in front…

"Demetria, what's wrong?" asked Ginny from the other side of the dressing room door, worriedly. I suppose she was expecting my usual complaint or fake praise, because she opened the door, probably expecting me to have dropped dead. But her expression shifted to that of admiration upon seeing me. "See! Now _that _one's a keeper!" But once again, she took my silence as a bad sign. "Well, you hate it but at least you're honest this time."

But just as she was about to walk off again, I stopped her. "This is the one," I said softly.

At first, Ginny looked as though she didn't know whether to believe me or not. "D'you mean that?"

I gave my first genuine smile — and answer — since I started trying on dresses. And that seemed a good enough answer for Ginny who beamed back. I reached up to take the hair tie from my head, the high ponytail I'd been sporting all day falling away. I hadn't magically straightened my hair that day, so my natural curls fell just past where the dress began.

"You should curl your hair like that for the ball," Ginny fervently suggested.

"I didn't curl it," I told her.

She sighed longingly. "You're so lucky your hair's naturally like that. All I've got is this," And she held up a lock of her pin straight, red mane. "I didn't know you straightened your hair, Dem. Quit trying to be something you're not." She _was_ only joking, because she smiled and playfully swatted my arm, but there was so much more truth to that than she knew.

:.:.:

Durmstrang students' nationalities consisted of Norwegian, Ukrainian, Russian, and Bulgarian. Even the very few stragglers, such as Finn and myself, possessed one — if not more — of said nationalities. Now, my point was that in each of those countries, the twenty-fourth of December was the big celebration day rather than the twenty-fifth. Granted, it was a bit strange the first time after spending countless Christmas Days with Grandad and Tinker. But I adapted quickly, and celebrated Christmas Eve with my Durmstrang brothers and all of their traditions. So it was no different when this December twenty-fourth came. Instead of spending it eating with everyone else in the Great Hall, Karkaroff spoke with Dumbledore and I spoke with Dobby about decorating and using the kitchens for our own traditional twelve-course meal that night. Naturally, both Headmaster and house-elf agreed to it. After all, we were only a small group so we didn't get in the way of the elves' cooking, and it was certainly better than having it on the ship.

"Miss Demetria," Dobby approached me after the twelve courses and as we were all just about to leave. "in case Dobby does not see Miss Demetria tomorrow, can Dobby give Miss Demetria her present now?"

I smiled down at the elf and his big, green eyes and told him, "Dobby, you're free now. You can call me Demetria."

"Dobby is sorry," he said innocently.

Kneeling down to be at his level, I couldn't help but release a giggle at him. "And yes, you can."

That put a huge smile on his face as he revealed a small package from behind his back and handed it to me. Upon unwrapping it, Dobby excitedly watching, I found a pair of thick, crew socks. And a mismatched pair, at that. One sock was bright red with a pattern of broomsticks; the other sock was green with a pattern of Golden Snitches.

"Dobby has made them himself, Demetria!" he told me gleefully. "He has bought the wool out of his wages, Demetria!"

"Aw, Dobby, I love them!" I happily told him. And honestly, I did. They were much more exciting than the pair I always borrowed from Viktor to use as slippers. "Thank you." And I placed a kiss upon the top of his head, his eyes practically leaking with happiness, before I got up to leave with the others.

The Great Hall was empty as we passed it, making our way on to the snowy grounds and on board the ship. Karkaroff retired to his cabin while the gents and I descended below deck and began the gift-giving portion of the evening. Viktor and I sat on his bottom bunk with Grigor and Finn on Grigor's own bottom bunk across from our's. We'd tossed the corresponding packages to one another, and began unwrapping.

From Viktor, a record of a Muggle band I was fond of called The Beatles; from Grigor, a box of my favorite candies; from Finn, a Tutshill Tornados scarf.

The thank-yous and hugs went around the group, everyone seeming really pleased with one another's gifts. But just as the excitement began to die down, all light sources nearly blown out, the hatch opened and Fred Weasley dropping down.

"Evening, gents," he said casually before spotting me. "Demetria, a word?" And with that, he'd climbed right back up above deck and though I would've much rather been cuddling up in my bunk, I followed suit.

"What is it, Fr — ?"

"Demetria, why're you doing this to us?" Fred's words cut into my own. "Especially George?"

"I'm not _especially _doing anything to anyone," I told him.

"That may be, but he's taking it much harder than I am," he explained gravely. "And you're clearly having no problem talking to me now."

"You're right, I'm not, and that's the problem."

He didn't understand, his expression showed that. But I didn't expect him to understand. I didn't even want him to. "Dem, what're you on about?"

"I just — I really can't explain it," I said it so finitely that I just hoped the conversation could end there. But, of course, that wasn't the case.

"Well try," he insisted, all joking and lightness vanished from his eyes. "Because I'm not about to let the closest person to me in the world mope around on Christmas like a lost puppy."

I'd never seen him so serious, and it sort of scared me. I had to tell him _something_. "My granddad doesn't want me socializing with blood traitors." That wasn't my real reason, but it _was_ true.

For a moment, Fred only stared at me. And all I could do was stare back. Maybe it would've actually sounded better if I told him the truth. Because with the truth, he'd know I was trying to protect the both of them. But I was beyond relieved when the words out of Fred's mouth were not mean in the slightest. "Why d'you let him tell you how to live your life?"

But I wasn't about to have this conversation. "Goodnight, Fred." I turned to walk away, and his voice came again.

"You need to stop running away from this," he told me seriously. "You can't even talk about it. Look, I dunno what the situation is — maybe he's got something to hold over you," _Well yeah, my dead parents' approval._ "But I _do _know you, and I know you're strong enough to break away from whatever hold he's got on you. Demetria, I'm not telling you to do this for me, or for George… I'm telling you to do this for yourself," And then, as if he hadn't just given me the speech of a lifetime, Fred casually slung both legs over the railing and winked…but with a genuine smile, and not his usual crooked, mischievous one. "Goodnight, Princess."

Perhaps the worst part was that he was completely right. And you _know _things are bad when Fred Weasley becomes the voice of reason…


	9. Chapter 8: The Chosen Path

_**Chapter Eight**_

_The Chosen Path_

:.:.:

_I hold the silver, heart-shaped locket in the palm of my hand, the strange inscriptions staring back at me. I still haven't the slightest idea what they mean. I'm seated on the edge of a green, velvet-sheeted bed, and just as I begin to rise from it, I am greeted by a very young girl, running into the room and repeatedly shouting "Mum!" This child, clad in a red dress, bares a shocking resemblance to me, except for her eyes which are a pale blue._

_ "Mum, come downstairs!" she prods, taking my hand in an attempt to pull me along. "Daddy said I could open one of my presents tonight!"_

_ But I find myself staring into her blue eyes before I can even think of responding. And just as I am about to, 'Daddy' comes strolling in._

_ "I hope that's all right, love." The voice is only remotely familiar, at best. And I don't look to see who it is until I've decided in my mind. But I quickly find out my speculation is wrong._

_ It looks like Lucious Malfoy, but the eyes suggest otherwise. These eyes are far too kind to be Malfoy's. Though I'm not entirely wrong, for it _is _a Malfoy. Our supposed daughter stands between myself and an older version of Draco, his eyes meeting her's now._

_ "Why don't you head down, Aurora? Your mum and I will be right there." And after Aurora flees from the room, Draco's gaze returns to mine. "Y'know, darling," and then he steps in closer and whispers seductively in my ear. "we still need to have a boy_…_if we want an heir."_

_ "_We _don't, your father does," I clarify acidically, pushing Draco away from me._

_ "Well this is our life now," he says matter-of-factly. "Nothing we can do about it."_

_ I open my fist and stare at the locket. There _was _something I could have done._

_ "No, Demetria, not this again," Draco says sternly. "It's time to move on."_

_ "You took my Light!" I accuse._

_ Draco quickly matches my increased volume and shouts back, "I took nothing! You gave it to me!"_

_ "Because I was forced to!"_

_ He doesn't say anything for a split second, but his expression is hard as stone. And in the second which follows, he snatches the locket from my hand and takes off. I'm shouting his name and running after him, down the grand staircase and through winding hallways. I only stop once after I catch a glimpse of myself in a hallway mirror. I hardly recognize myself. Sure, it sort of looks like me…but I'm older…and I look like…Narcissa Malfoy. And that's when I release a murderous scream at the sight, Draco now shouting my name from somewhere in the house._

_ "Demetria! Demetria!"_

–

"Demetria! Demetria! Dem, c'mon!"

I awoke, mid-scream, to find my body being shaken by Finn. And for a moment, all I could do was stare at him through the darkness, his sea-foam green eyes popping out against it. And he didn't even have to ask anything, for he was fully aware of what happened and was already helping me down from my bunk, a slight smashing sound emitted as he did so. Then we moved up the ladder, and through the hatch. As soon as I emerged from below deck, the December air immediately whipped against my face, then my bare arms and legs. Luckily, Finn came through the hatch with a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and my combat boots. He was already bundled up.

"What was it this time?" he inquired, moving over to the ship's starboard railing.

I followed and recounted the dream, though I was still in a bit of a haze as I attempted to tie up my combat boots once I'd put my feet in. Finn noticed my trouble and aided me, not only in lacing up the boots, but he also helped me get into the clothing which I figured was his own. By the time I was finished explaining my dream, so was he with clothing me in his black sweatpants and white Scottish flag sweatshirt, both of which were slightly big on me.

"So you didn't get another locket then?" he prodded almost teasingly.

My hand instinctively reached for the locket which was missing from around my neck. "I didn't even get that one back," I told him in bewilderment.

But just like last time, Finn remained unusually calm. "All right, so your mother gives it to you and you wake up with it…Draco takes it, it's gone… D'you s'pose it's somewhere around your bunk?"

"It's not, I went to sleep with it on," I replied, near tears. And I wasn't even sure why, but I knew I just felt like crying. And so I just…did.

Finn already had me wrapped up in his arms as soon as he detected the saddness in my voice. So I just returned the embrace and let his own sweatshirt sop up my tears.

I was just so tired of all these secrets. My own life was one, big mystery. And anytime I'd shut my eyes and try to sleep and escape it, I woke up with more questions than answers. And now I'd even lost my mother's locket…in a sodding _dream_!

"Shhh, Dem, it'll be all right," Finn cooed. "We'll figure this out, don't worry," And I could feel him smile against the top of my head as he spoke again. "Don't cry on Christmas."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that as I pulled away. But I did still swat at his arm teasingly.

The sun could be seen rising ever-so-slightly over the forest then, and that would mean everyone below deck would be waking up and getting ready for breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Happy Christmas, Finn," I said softly.

He returned the smile I gave him and said, "Happy Christmas…Demetrius."

"Really, Winifinn?" I said mockingly, but couldn't help cracking a smile. "Just had to go and ruin the moment?"

"I live for ruining moments," he teased, draping an arm over my shoulder. "_and_ helping mates decode mysterious lockets."

With his arm still snaked around me, we began walking off the ship and across the grounds. "Oh, is that right?" I said, feigning impression. "How many would you say you've decoded then?"

"Well as it turns out, madame, you are the first," he said, tipping his imaginary hat to me and winking.

Just as we'd made it to the castle and I'd stopped chuckling at Finn, I remembered why we were there in the first place. I mean, why we were ahead of the rest of our school who could then be seen casually making their way through the snow on the same path we'd taken (because there's no point in marching intimidatingly when in sweatpants or, like Grigor, footie pajamas).

"Oi!" I said suddenly, hitting Finn, who didn't react other than by looking at me. "How did you do that?"

"Get Grigor out in public in his footie pajamas?" he asked, appearing rather proud. "Well I saw his mum sent them to him and I used an art known as blackmail to —"

"Not that, you tosspo — That's because of _you_?" I looked again at Grigor and his fluffy cloud themed ensemble and caught sight of his miserable expression as he and the rest of the blokes drew closer. "Impressive."

And finally, Grigor and Viktor and the rest had passed Finn and I and entered into the Great Hall. But not before Grigor raised a certain finger to Finn, who returned the crude gesture with a thumbs-up.

"You just did it again!" I told him. And this time he just looked at me, still smiling, but with confusion. "You just…distract me. Had I been with Sir Puff N' Stuff, I'd still be worrying about the locket."

"That's because I'm a professional, Dem," and with that, he stepped toward the Great Hall entrance and pretended to hold open the door for me which was already propped open. "Ladies first."

But just as I was about to step through the threshold, I heard a certain voice behind me say, "You forgot to bow, mate." And another say, "If you're stealing our jokes, steal them right."

Upon turning, I found it to be the very same tall, lanky ginger twins I suspected. They were undoubtedly referring to the night they'd snuck me into the kitchens for a snack, and they'd used that same line and bowed. And I hadn't remembered until I saw the uncertainty plastered across George's face that I was supposed to be mad at him. Hard to believe it was just the previous night when his twin brother came and gave me the speech of the century.

"I'll meet you inside, Dem," Finn said to me before I figured he'd left. I wouldn't know for sure, my eyes had never left those of George Weasley. And then for what felt like hours we just stood there staring, him looking rather uncertain and I…Well actually, I wasn't entirely sure of what face I was making.

"Could you two hurry up this stare-off?" Fred interjected. "I'm rather famished." And I saw, from out of the corner of my eye, Fred signal me toward his brother with a rather pleading expression.

"Happy Christmas, George," I said finally, and with a genuine smile. Ugh, I was going to make for such a Godric-awful Death Eater. And the closer I got to them, the more they'd hate me once I became one. But I decided to ignore that for the time being, especially after watching George's face light up like…well, a child on Christmas morning.

"Happy Christmas, love," he said, and looked for a moment as though he might come in to hug me.

When he didn't, I put my arms out and said, "Come on then, you great git."

I didn't realize until he and I were embracing eachother that we'd never hugged before. And I hated to admit how much I liked it. Just the feeling of his arms around me, and how it felt different from when someone like Finn did it. Just his warm, ambery scent engulfing me. And I found myself getting far too caught up in all of it, so after what felt longer than it probably was, I looked out from against George's chest and found Fred just looking on with a smirk.

"Care to join, Freddie?"

"Nah, not much of a sharing bloke, Princess," Fred said, keeping his smirk intact and heading for the Hall entrance. "But you two have fun. Happy Christmas, and save me a dance tonight, would ya, lovie?"

At that, Fred left us, George releasing me and looking rather nervous about something. "So you're not mad anymore, right?"

"George, I don't often hug those I'm in a row with," I told him, which seemed to help visibly calm his nerves.

"Well you certainly would've made an exception for me," he said with his joking bravado back in check. "But I wouldn't be able to resist such a god-like figure such as myself either."

"Right, that must be it," I said, playing along with a smile of my own. "I just can't resist, is that it?"

"You can't, and I don't blame you," he continued. "Which is why my answer is yes, I'll go with you to the ball tonight. Just don't beg… Actually —"

I snapped right back into reality. "George, you don't have a date yet?" And I was so full of shock and disappointment that I hadn't realized how mean that must've sounded. "It's just that…No, I…I would've liked to go with you but…er, I thought you had a date and…now I do…"

"Oh no, no worries, no, not at all," he assured. "I've got a date, Demetria. Yeah, no, I was only joking around, y'know, just…pulling your leg."

"Oh, all right, well that's…good then, yeah?" I floundered. "We both have dates, I mean."

"Yeah! It's just great actually," George agreed.

"Excellent."

"Superb."

"Ace."

"Peachy."

"See you tonight."

"Save me a da — a damn seat."

"Good."

I turned and rushed off into the Great Hall, making my way immediately toward my usual spot at the Slytherin table.

_Good_? What was I thinking? What even happened?! I didn't even have time to think as we were speaking. But none of that really mattered anymore once I sat down at the bench, for whatever the previous conversation had been, it ended as I arrived and shifted to me.

"So, Demetria," said Adrian at once. "Hope you're ready for tonight. I just went with the classic black-and-white dress robes if that's all right."

"Good," I told him. Bloody hell, _that _wordagain. I began fixing myself a mug of coffee.

"Demi, I may know someone who can help interpret your dreams," said, of all people, Draco. I just stared from across the table for a moment. "Finn only mentioned you were having some rather unusual dreams."

I looked to Finn, but Viktor came to his rescue. "The entire cabin heard your screaming," he reasoned.

"Well alright then, just how far out of the way d'you reckon we'll have to go?" I asked Draco.

He released a small breath of laughter and assured me, "Not far."

–

"A Seer! Right here in the bloody castle! And this is the first I'm hearing about it!" said Finn, astounded. "This wasn't in _Hogwarts: A History_!"

We were standing in the classroom of a Professor Trelawney, teacher of Divination at Hogwarts. Although it didn't look like much of a classroom at all. More like a cross between an old-fashioned tea shop and someone's attic. But apparently, at least according to Draco, this was the woman to see on dreams.

"Don't wet yourself, Finnick," I told him. "We don't even know if this woman's a load of rubbish or not."

"The Inner Eye speaks for itself, Demetria Harris," came a soft, misty voice. And upon turning, I found it to be who I assumed was Professor Trelawney.

My immediate impression was that of Rita Skeeter in a disguise…or not much of one, really. They both resembled large, glittering insects, differences only perceived once she moved closer to Finn and I.

Trelawney wore large spectacles which greatly magnified her bug-eyes. She was swallowed up in a spangled shawl with numerous chains and beads hanging around her neck. Her arms and hands were jingling with bangles and rings.

Finn immediately looked to me with a smirk as if to say 'I told you so.'

"So she knows my name," I dismissed airily. "Anyone with the slightest clue of this sodding tournament could piece that together."

But Finn remained unphased, as did Trelawney, who was then ushering us toward one of the small, circular tables encircled by fat little poufs. Finn collapsed on his knees on to one first while I remained reluctant.

"Sit, my child," insisted Trelawney. I did, but I couldn't help thinking what I'd just gotten myself into. "Now then, to what do I owe this visit?" She sank into a pouf at the same table, her eyes buldging out and darting between Finn and I.

"Nothing," I said abruptly, shooting off the pouf. "Wrong part of the castle." I turned to leave, but Finn's arm reached out to stop me.

"What're you afraid of?" he stood up and whispered to me.

"Nothing!" I whispered back fervently. "I just don't reckon we're going to be getting any straight answers from Miss Crystal Ball For Brains!"

"Or maybe you're scared of what we'll find out," he said gravely.

I actually pulled back and looked to him. "Why would that scare me?" I asked as though he knew something I didn't.

He immediately shrugged, telling me in innocence, "You just may not like what you find, is all."

And Finn had a point, that maybe some secrets were better off kept. But then I remembered how I broke down in tears from all of my frustrations, and I remembered how tired I was of the secrets.

"I want to know," I decided aloud. Finn half-smiled encouragingly and we both sank back into the poufs. Trelawney was waiting, her eager eyes as big and bug-like as ever.

"Are we ready to begin?" she asked us, though mainly me. Finn and I shared a look before nodding toward Trelawney, who immediately began rattling her many bangles as her hands flew about. "I am Sibyll Trelawney, Seer of the Inner Eye, teacher of the —"

"Yes yes, that's all very good, now can we skip the theatrics? I'd like answers," I snapped.

Trelawney's face slowly fell, her eyes shrinking back down to a reasonable size…for a bug. "Very well," she said slowly. "Tell me about these dreams, my dear."

And so I did. Careful not to miss any detail, I recounted my first dream and how I received the locket, and then my most recent dream and how I'd lost the locket. Trelawney's eyes never moved from mine until I had finally finished. But she allowed my final words to hang in the air for a moment, and she looked away as if to ponder what she'd just heard. Nothing registered across her face until her eyes finally made their way back to me and she whispered sympathetically, "The poor child is destined to be a Death Eater."

Note to self: Thank Draco for _all _the help.

"No shite, I'm destined to be a Death Eater!" I shouted, standing up and nearly flipping the table. "How about telling me something I _haven't _known since I was seven years old!?"

"I was not speaking to you, my child," said Trelawney, remaining completely calm. She closed her eyes and I let my anger subside before risking a glance at who she _had_ been speaking to — Finn.

He was staring blankly ahead, his expression as unreadable as…well, Trelawney. I didn't even know what to say to him…if there was anything _to _say. I'd been right when I said Finn and I didn't know one another. And now he had to find out one of my darkest secret the hard way. And then I thought of all my other dark secrets… What if they were to be revealed tonight as well?

"Finn, you can leave," I said, barely audible. "If you want," I added when he didn't respond for a while.

But he finally did reply, though his head remained facing forward. "I'm not leaving," he said, his voice hollow. "I deserve to know."

"Deserve to kn — ?"

"Anything else you're hiding!" He looked at me, but I would have preferred it if he'd just kept staring ahead. I'd never seen him so angry. "And don't tell me that we barely know eachother, because I spilled my heart out to you on, what, our third day of speaking?!" He was standing now, moving closer to me. "And I've been the one helping you through all of this! And not _once_, did you ever even _care_ to mention or perhaps even drop a bloody _hint_ that you would one day become a _fucking Death Eater_!?"

I swallowed hard, staring at Finn, and had to find my voice before speaking. "No one was supposed to know!" I wasn't yelling, per say, but I spoke loudly enough to compete. "No one was ever s'posed to find out about me until they no longer knew me!"

"No longer knew you?!" he parroted. "What does that even mean?! You're telling me if I ask Viktor or Grigor they won't have any idea what I'm talking about!?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm telling you!" I said. "They don't know! No one does! No one except my grandad and Draco and —"

"_Malfoy_ knows?!"

"Malfoy is expected to become one too! His father and my grandfather have been taking us to meetings and gatherings since we were seven!" Alright, so perhaps _then _I was yelling. "Ugh, listen! The whole plan was for me to graduate from Durmstrang, cut ties with Viktor and Grigor, marry a Pure-blood, and join the Death Eaters! By then, no one would remember me or care about me, and they could read about it in the bloody _Prophet _or something!" I took a moment to breathe, my voice coming back just as strong but not as loud. Even Finn's expression seemed to be softening ever-so-slightly. "Vik and Grig used to be the only ones I had to worry about. But now there's _you_, and the twins, and Ginny, and Godric-forbid Harry Potter!"

I dropped right into the pouf, silence speaking once again. But it wasn't Finn who spoke after it, much to my dismay.

"Darkness may line your path, but there is Light in you," said Trelawney in a distant voice.

Finn and I turned to look at her, hoping she might say more. When she didn't, I spoke up. "That's what I keep hearing in these dreams. What does it mean?" I asked urgently.

"It means you're a good person," said Finn softly. And I knew there must have been a deeper meaning to it, but Finn was speaking from the heart. I could hear that, even without looking at him. I hoped that meant I was forgiven.

"Certainly that, my dears," said Trelawney once again in a distant, misty voice. And even more so when she spoke next. "Demetria Harris, there is _Light _within you."

"Yes, we've established th —"

"Capital L." Trelawney's bug-eyes flicked upward, as did her body from the pouf, and she stumbled across the floor to one of her many shelves. They were all lined with odd sorts of trinkets, but she returned to the table with a quill. And without parchment or ink, she began dragging the quill against the table. It screeched until she'd finished, throwing the quill down and saying, "Light. Capital L."

Finn and I had to stand up and walk around to see that Trelawney had carved into the table the very same inscription which was on my locket.

"This means Light?" I asked fervently.

"In Ancient Runes, yes," was her, still distant, reply.

"So, 'don't take my light' is 'don't take my locket'?" asked a still very confused Finn.

"No!" Trelawney whipped around. "The Light is inside _you_!" She pointed to me. "Inside the locket! You don't have the locket?"

Finn and I shook our heads.

"You must go so I can recover!" Trelawney instructed, still shaking and sounding odd. "Return! But only with the locket! It is the key!"

"Wait, what is the Light?!" I practically begged her to tell me.

"Return with the locket!" She grabbed on to me by the shoulders, her eyeballs flickering up into her head. Finn ripped me away from her and pulled me along out of the room. He opened the hatch and moved me along through it until we were both making our way down the ladder.

When we finally dropped back into the castle corridors, it was as though nothing had even happened. The bell had just rung and students were bustling along the staircases, making their way down to lunch. I stood still, rather shaken…and frustrated.

"I'd say that was almost pointless," said Finn.

"Aw, what d'you mean?" I asked, my tone coated with sarcasm. "You learned one of your best mates only has a few more years before she's converted to the dark side, Luke."

"First off, you _are_ my best mate," said Finn, looking me right in the eye. "Second, that _was_ the one part keeping it from being completelypointless. And third, you're not going anywhere…Leia."

And then I sort of just stood there for a moment, a wave of different emotions crashing over me. But mainly, I was impressed. "So not only d'you forgive me for not telling you about my 'chosen path'," I applied air-quotes and a mockingly deep voice where needed. "but you also caught my referrence to an American, Muggle space epic film franchise?"

Finn simply nodded, smiling proudly.

"We really are best mates."

"Yeah yeah," he teased, tousling my hair. "Let's just go eat, please. I need to rest my Inner Eye."

But as it turned out, there was simply no time for resting. Not for me, anyway. As soon as Finn and I had come within earshot of the Great Hall, we were automatically approached by Ginny and Hermione who seemed to have just finished a conversation with one another.

"Demetria!" Ginny greeted rather anxiously. Her eyes darted to Finn in a flash. "Is this Grigor?"

I couldn't determine why she appeared hopeful at that…_until _I realized she'd never seen or actually even _met_ Grigor before. "Er, no, sorry," I apologized. "I know you two should've met sooner but I've been b —"

"It's fine," Ginny assured, seeming slightly crestfallen. "I just…don't know who to look for."

"I'll send him off with Viktor and you can go with Hermione to wherever they've arranged to meet," I suggested with a sort of upward inflection.

"Ace," she commented, anxiousness then replaced with excitement.

"So Demetria," began Hermione rather tentatively. "we were wondering if you'd…like to get ready for the ball with us."

"Hermione offered me, and… Well, we just thought you'd prefer a girls' dormitory rather than a ship full of…testosterone-filled gorillas," said Ginny, quoting me on what I'd called my Durmstrang brothers.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great actually," I told them thankfully. "'Cause I've absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"So it works out then," said Ginny with a small chuckle.

"Why don't you just meet me here around five o'clock and I can take you up to the dormitory? Ginny'll already be there." suggested Hermione.

"All right, I'll see you both then."

And after we'd exchanged our "see you"s and parted ways as we entered the Great Hall, I realized I'd possibly just added another person to my list of people who will especially hate me after I become a Death Eater. And speaking of becoming a Death Eater, Draco was the first to speak to me as I sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Y'know it's not too late to switch dates, Demetria," he practically begged with What's-Her-Pug-Face draped over him once again.

"Oh but it is," Adrian interjected, his hand crashing down on Draco's shoulder comfortingly. "Sorry, mate." And he truly did look it.

"D'you reckon I could get a nap in before the ball?" All I wanted to do was have another dream and get that locket back.

My question had been directed toward Finn, but Grigor replied with a mouth full of turkey. "This ball is not until eight. You haff much time."

"I'm s'posed to start getting ready at five," I explained.

Being that I was surrounded by blokes (I'd say 'except for Draco's bird' if it hadn't been for that _face_), all of them looked to me in complete and utter confusion.

"You need three hours?" asked Draco incredulously, speaking for the rest of the gents.

"_I _don't need three hours," riffed Whatever-Her-Bloody-Name-Was.

But it was really just to Draco, so the rest of us ignored it. Actually, even Draco ignored it. And then I believe it was Adrian who made a comment about how they didn't understand birds, and that became a rather heated debate with Pug who swore men were far more complicated. I, personally, was no longer even paying them any mind. I focused solely on my food and…the Light, though I still had no idea what it meant. But I'd spoke too soon, because I did figure something out…just not necessarily about the locket.

_The Light…the sodding Light… Light with a capital L. Huh, there's a difference? Oh, just focus. Don't let him take my Light. The locket…Light…_

_ "And then just bevore she floated to the surface, there vas a flash of light from underneath the water…"_

_ Flash of light…or is it flash of Light? Oh what the bloody hell is the difference! Wait, the light…the egg! The clue!_

"Son of a banshee," I swore under my breath, immediately rising from the bench and seeking out the Hufflepuff table.

Ignoring the questioning from the blokes as I took off, I made my way over to the other side of the Great Hall and seeked out Cedric. Luckily, I was able to spot him due to the excessive use of his name. There was a whole group of younger students huddled around him, practically praising him by the looks of it. Nevertheless, he appeared thankful when I interrupted.

"Demetria!" he enthusiastically welcomed me before I had the chance to speak. "D'you need a word in private?" And he'd already stood up from the bench, his ickle fan club shooting me daggers.

"Um, yeah," was the brilliant response I'd mustered up. Not that it mattered, because Cedric was already practically dashing out of the Hall before I'd even replied. I kept pace with him though as we exited the Hall together.

"I really did though," I told him. "Have to speak with you in private, I mean."

"Well no offense, but I planned on using you for that excuse either way," he told me with a charming smile.

For a moment, I was so caught up in that smile that I'd forgotten what I needed to say. I just smiled back until he arched his eyebrows, urging me to get on with it, I'm sure.

"Right, yeah!" I felt idiotic as I said it, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. "Oh! The egg!"

"You solved it then?" he guessed.

"Yeah it's — You've got to open it underwater and listen," I explained.

Realization flickered across his face. "Mermaids?"

_"…and… Vell, I had thought for a short moment I heard a…morska sirena."_

"Er, yeah," I said slowly, my head growing foggy. "Just…pass it on to Harry."

"Sure thing. Blimey, I really owe you, don't I?" And I just looked to him in confusion, my thoughts clearing up as I came to. "You've tipped me off on both tasks and I haven't been able to do the same."

"Well then," — the bell sounded — "the third one's all you."

"You've got it," said Cedric, smiling. "You still owe me a dance tonight."

"Given the stakes, I'd say _you _owe _me_," I teased.

Cedric and I smiled at one another until the sea of students began their stampede out of the Great Hall. But we continued to grin like complete tossers until we lost sight of one another. That was when I moved off to the side of the entrance and waited for a familiar face to stroll by. But after the first few faces I saw were _not_, I simply gave up and made my way back toward the ship.

The snow out on the grounds still remained completely untouched, aside from the deep channels up to the castle made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students and, obviously, myself. And suddenly, I felt the urge to disturb that untouched snow. So I began branching out from the paved pathway, trudging actually being a more appropriate term. It then dawned on me how burly or just plain strong my brothers really had to be to move any of this sodding snow. I watched them plow that pathway without so much of a struggle. But no such luck for a girl of my size. So I simply began trying to hop through it…that absolutely did not work.

And no sooner did I try it than I heard the shouts of Fred Weasley. "Very graceful, Princess!"

Upon turning, I found him standing with George, Hermione, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. "Saw that, did you?" I was thankful they couldn't see how rather sheepish I must have looked.

"Couldn't miss it!" George shouted back, all five of them making their way toward me then. "Care to join us in a snowball fight?"

Ron ran up to George and we were all then close enough for me to hear him say, "Then it's uneven!" He then turned back. "Unless Hermione wants to join!"

"No thank you!" she called from the castle steps quite a ways back. I could tell by her tone that he'd asked her at least a hundred times already.

"Then uneven the teams shall be," declared Fred.

"And don't get your rainbow unicorn bloomers in a bunch, Ronniekins," George said at once to silence his younger brother whose mouth had opened and closed in that moment. "You two beasts can have the beauty. You'll need all the help you can get." He and Fred high-fived perfectly without even looking to each other.

"And _you_ two ginger mingers don't get _your_ fairy princess knickers in a twist," I shot back at the twins good-naturedly, detecting chuckles from Harry and Ron behind me. "I never agreed to play."

Fred and George shared a look before peeking into their trousers and then looking back at me.

"How did you know we wore fairy princess knickers on Tuesdays?!" George gushed, his hands over his heart.

"Speak for yourself, Georgie. I've decided to keep it festive today with a bit of mistletoe," said Fred. And what scared me most was that I had absolutely no idea if he was joking or not…

"Well thank you, Fred for the nightmares I'm sure I'll be having during my nap now," I told him, only half-jokingly, as I attempted to get past the two of them; they wouldn't allow that, however.

"Sorry, love, but there's a toll to pay if you want to get on your ship," said George, he and his twin now wearing their mischievous grins.

"And let me guess, that toll is a snowball fight," I stated dryly.

"Precisely!"

"Oh, but do perk up, Dem," advised Fred. "We've taken the liberty of upping the ante so as not to bore your majesty."

"I'm listening." What were they up to?

"The losers must lay buried in snow for five minutes…stripped down to their fairy princess knickers —"

"— or mistletoe —" said Fred proudly.

"— or rainbow unicorn bloomers —" George eyed Ron.

"— or leopard thongs —"

"For the princess?" inquired George, intrigued.

"Nah, for Harry. I reckon he's got a wild side." I figured it was Ron who I heard chuckle at Fred's response. "What were _you _thinking for the Princess?"

"I dunno, I was hoping to get to Harry first actu —"

"It's on!" I declared, turning back and bringing Harry and Ron back a ways before huddling up with them.

"Just for the record, I don't wear, nor do I even own, any rainbow unicorn bloomers," Ron assured Harry and I.

"I'll be honest, Ron, I find it a bit unsettling you felt the need to actually tell us that," I told him, earning a chuckle from Harry; Ron's ears brightened with pink just as I'd seen George's do. "Then again, I don't exactly want to find out for myself…"

"Then let's win this!" cheered Harry determinedly.

And win it, we did. The snowball fight continued until Hermione called out to me that it had reached five o-clock and Ginny would be waiting for us.

"Looks as though I won't be able to bury you in the snow myself, gents," I said to the twins, making my way toward Hermione who was waiting at the stone steps of the castle.

"What, you need three hours?" Ron called out to us. And I'd turned around just in time to watch George throw a large snowball right at the side of Ron's head.

"We win!" the twins chorused.

Ron ignored the snowball and shouted to Hermione, "Who're you going with?" Hermione simply waved.

"Hold on, Princess!" George called out to me. "A deal's a deal!" And then I, too, simply waved, Hermione and I laughing as we made our way towards the first staircase.

"So why's it such a big secret that you're going with Viktor?" I cautiously inquired.

"It's not," she insisted airily. "I just haven't told anyone but Ginny." And then she looked to me curiously. "How did you — ?"

"Vik's one of my best mates," I explained. "Although he didn't exactly come right out and tellme either. I saw you two in the library and used it against him."

"That happens quite a bit actually — us in the library," Hermione shared. "But we don't do much talking."

I smirked at her implicitly. "You saucy minx, you."

"Oh no, I didn't mean _that_!" she insisted, blushing fiercely. "We just — Well he mostly watches me study."

"Viktor's a bit shy with the birds," I told her. "I'm actually surprised he asked you at all."

"Well believe me, I hadn't exactly thought I'd be going with him," Hermione's tone grew bitter when she spoke again. "But seeing as how Ronald decided to wait until Viktor asked me to ask as a last resort…" And she didn't finish, but didn't need to. She simply gave an exasperated sigh.

"Ah, so it's Ron you fancy then, is it?" I inquired.

"Absolutely not," she frowned. "Ron is like a brother to me. Romantic feelings for one another are simply nonexistent."

I could tell she was lying, or at least I thought she was. And then I remembered something.

"Oh bollocks…" I cursed under my breath, but Hermione heard it.

"Demetria, your language," she scolded as we continued to make our way along the changing staircases.

"Sorry, It's just…" But it wouldn't be in anyone's best interests to reveal that Viktor truly fancied Hermione, considering she didn't exactly reciprocate said feelings. And besides, it wasn't my place…though that certainly never stopped me before. "I just remembered I never got to see what my grandad sent me for Christmas." I'd used it as a lie, but it was true.

"Oh, well did you want to go back and see?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Nah, I'll see it later," I assured her.

"Well wait, d'you have your dress?"

"I left it with Ginny. Figured it'd be safer out of the way of the gorillas," I explained.

We halted in front of a portrait of a very fat lady wearing a pink silk dress who said, "Password?" to which Hermione replied with, "Fairy lights." The portrait then swung forward, revealing a circular hole in the wall which Hermione and I climbed through.

The Gryffindor common room reminded me quite a lot of the one back at Durmstrang. They both possessed the roaring fireplace, numerous tables, and different types of scarlet seats. Really the only difference between the two was that Durmstrang's common room had _more_ scarlet couches and armchairs, being that it was also far bigger than the circular room I was standing in.

I followed Hermione up one of the two spiral staircases, but she stopped me just as we'd reached what I assumed was the door to the fourth year girls' dormitory. "Just so you know, my room-mates can be a bit…unbearable," she warned me before opening the door. And sure enough, it revealed two girls screaming like banshees and jumping on to the four-poster beds.

Both were clad in bright colored dresses, their hair looking like they had just been in the midst of grooming it. One girl was light-skinned with blonde hair, the other presumably Indian with long, black hair. Ginny also looked to be in the middle of untangling her long, red mane, but had quickly drawn her wand, eyes determinedly scanning the floor.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"There's no mouse, you tossers," Ginny snapped at the birds, ignoring Hermione's question…but also answering it. "You just stepped on your bathrobe."

The girls stepped down from their beds and made their way back over toward the full-length mirror where the blonde picked up her fuzzy, purple bathrobe.

"Better safe than sorry." She scowled.

"Y'know she's got a point there, Gin," I interjected, causing the two banshees to jump. "You can never be too careful with natural fibre weavings — all soft and fuzzy and whatnot."

Ginny and Hermione stifled laughter, the other two girls looking unamused.

"And who are _you_?" the blonde asked me.

"Demetria Harris," I said it as though it were an insult for them not to know. And quite honestly, it sort of was. I was one of the sodding champions for Merlin's sake. But as soon as I saw both of their faces light up, I almost wished they had remained clueless on who I was.

"The winner of the First Task!" gushed the dark-skinned girl.

"Only girl at Durmstrang!" added the blonde before rushing over to me, arm extended. I reluctantly shook it. "I'm Lavender Brown, this is Parvati Patil. It's an honor to have you in our dormitory!"

"We're huge fans!" Parvati told me.

"You two are aware I'm from an opposing school?"

"Of course."

"We think you're _far_ better than that Fleur Delacour," said Lavender.

Alright, so perhaps they weren't _totally _unbearable.

–

"Demetria, you've got to stay still," Hermione instructed for the upteenth time. And I _would _have, had it not been for the pain she was inflicting upon me. She claimed she was doing my makeup, but I was fairly certain she was dragging very dull daggers across my eyelids.

Hermione and Ginny had finished getting ready before I did, and I could only hope I would look at least _half _as good as they did — Ginny in her mint green dress, her long, red hair falling in gentle waves; Hermione in her floaty periwinkle-blue dress, light brown hair twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. And I'd helped her apply liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in order to transform her naturally bushy hair to the sleek and shiny mane which she now possessed.

"There, done," Hermione proudly declared.

I risked a glance in the mirror and could hardly believe the girl staring back was myself. The red dress I'd already been amazed by, but I still found myself in awe over it. My eyes were outlined with a black liner, my lids and creases were shimmering with a silvery eyeshadow, and my lashes were coated with mascara. Even my lips, which possessed nothing more than clear lip gloss, looked better. And though the three of us had agreed to leave my hair to embrace it's natural curls, I loved how Ginny had helped me pin it half-up-half-down, the top half spun into a knot similar to Hermione's.

"So _this _is what it's like to have girl mates," I said, mostly to myself.

I could see Ginny and Hermione exchange smiles to one another from the mirror, before coming in and placing a hand on my shoulder from both sides.

Yep. Hermione had definitely made the list.

–

"I s'pose Ron and Harry've already gone down," Hermione observed as we climbed down the stairs from the dormitory.

"That's too bad," said Ginny. "I wanted to see Ron in his dress."

"Ron's wearing a dress?" I asked in amusement.

"Might as well be. Those robes are ghastly," Ginny commented.

"Can't wait to see," I said; we all gave a chuckle, making our way out of the Gryffindor common room.

The entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around in a sea of color, waiting for eight o'clock when the doors to the Great Hall would open. Those from different Hogwarts Houses and even schools appeared to be searching for one another around the edges of the massive crowd. My own eyes scanned said crowd, not for _my_ date, but Hermione and Ginny's. Actually, mainly just Ginny's. I had to make sure Grigor looked presentable.

"Viktor!" Hermione called out before I could even so much as look in the direction which he stood.

But sure enough, there he was, and with Grigor (who, as it turned out, didn't require my assistance thankfully).

Hermione made her way over to Vik, Ginny quickly looking to me with a significant glance. I nodded as if to confirm that the bloke standing next to him was Grigor. She smiled and mouthed me a thank you before walking off with Hermione. And as I looked over, Viktor and Grigor were both resting their eyes upon me. Grigor appeared as though he'd never seen me before in his life, and Viktor had closed his mouth for him, smiling at me and giving a thumbs-up which I returned. And with that, I finally began searching for my own date, though I wasn't for long. It just wasn't Adrian who found me first.

"'Scuse me, beautiful stranger," came an all-too-familiar Scottish-accented voice. "have you seen a Miss Demetria Harris?"

"Oh shut it," I said humorously. "First Grigor doesn't recognize me, now you?"

"In all seriousness though, Dem, you do look beautiful," he complimented.

"You're looking rather beautiful tonight yourself, Winifinn," I told him with a good-natured smile which he returned, giving me a gentle push.

"Any sign of Prince Charming yet?" he inquired.

I stole another quick glance around and shook my head. "I'm almost certain Adrian plans on being fashionably late."

"I wasn't talking about Adrian." Finn smirked, his head gesturing for me to turn around.

At first, I wasn't sure who I was supposed to be looking for, until I saw him — Cedric — looking as handsome as ever in his black and white dress robes. He seemed to have just found his date — an oriental girl with shining dark hair in an elegant up-do, and a long-sleeved, silver dress. It was when Cedric reached out to take and kiss the girl's hand, that my heart sort of…dropped into my stomach. And then I recalled what Finn had said.

"I dunno what you mean," I turned abruptly to tell him, but he had re-located. I found him only a bit of a ways off, speaking with the bird I assumed was his date. I'd never seen her before, but judging by the group she'd arrived with, I'd imagine she was a Slytherin. That dreadful bird with the pug-like face was one of those people. She was clad in a frilly dress of pale pink, clutching Draco's arm for dear life, as though he may try to sneak off, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he did.

Branching off from the Slytherin group now was Adrian, his black velvet robes possessing a splash of red from a small handkerchief. He smiled as soon as he caught sight of me, striding right over.

"How'd you know I was wearing red?" I asked him before he could utter a single word.

"Would you believe…a lucky guess?" he offered.

"Not for a moment." I smirked.

"Then how about I brought a number of colors and spotted you before you could me?"

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "Did you?" I curiously asked.

In reply, Adrian revealed the left inside pocket of his robe. Sure enough, it appeared to be packed with something. He reached in to pull out a few different colored handkerchiefs before tucking them away again.

"Well I'm impressed," I told him, chuckling.

"Only the best for a champion," he told me, grinning.

And then, as if right on cue, that Professor McGonagall appeared to call out, "Champions over here, please!"

Adrian and I did just that, the other champions and their dates following suit. McGonagall instructed us to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; we were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students sat down. Phlegm and her date, a bloke I didn't recognize, positioned themselves nearest the doors. This didn't surprise me that Phlegm would want to be the first one everyone laid eyes on. Cedric stood with his date in front of Adrian and I. He turned back for just a moment to smile and wink at me. I mentally scolded myself when my heart skipped. What the sodding hell was wrong with me?!

Harry stood behind me with — if you can believe it — Parvati, one of Hermione's screaming banshee roommates.

Once the doors had opened, everyone walking past us and settling in their seats, McGonagall told us to keep in our lines, stand by our partners, and follow her. That was exactly what we did. The Hall errupted in applause and even some cheers as we started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were all seated.

The walls of the Hall had been lined with sparkling silver frost, hundreds of garlands of mistletoe (reminding me of Fred) and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished with a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones seating about a dozen people, taking their places.

I stole a quick glance over at Adrian who seemed to be enjoying himself, my arm linked in his. Or perhaps he was just good at acting like he was enjoying himself. I, for one, hadn't particularly cared for it, but I was sure Karkaroff would've wanted me to at least pretend, so I smiled at the students. Only when I found Fred and George at their table did my smile become genuine, both twins staring with their jaws dropped. I winked at them.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the rest of the champions, myself, and our partners approached the top table, while Karkaroff's narrowed eyes distracted the rest of the champions from seeing the thumbs-up he was giving me from low at his side. Ludo Bagman, in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had traded her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding us politely. But it took me a moment to realize Mr. Crouch was missing. And instead, in his place in the fifth seat, was a red-headed bloke in navy blue dress robes a rather smug expression. In fact, it looked to be one of the Weasleys. And according to Fred and George's descriptions of their elder brothers, I assumed this was Percy.

When we all reached the table, Percy drew out an empty chair beside him, staring at who I was relieved to find out was Harry and not myself. Though Adrian and I were still seated rather close by, no food on the glittering golden plates before us. No waiters either. Just small menus lying in front of each. I picked mine up and began to review, for I was familiar with such dining. It was customary at the annual Christmas Ball held by the Malfoys. In fact, now that I'd thought about it, everything about this Yule Ball seemed similar to the Malfoy's ball.

Held for the most elite of pure and half-blood society (mainly Death Eaters or those who supported), Grandad's and my attendance had been consistent every year for as long as I could remember. In fact, I'd actually danced with Adrian at each one! But I couldn't believe I'd forgotten! He'd even tried kissing me when we were nine!

I laughed to myself as I recalled it.

"What did you think of?" Adrian asked me urgently. "Because I _know _you're not laughing at this bloke's story."

I heard a bit of Percy's discussion of his job with Harry and confirmed Fred and George conclusion on Percy being a stick in the mud.

"I'll tell you later," I assured Adrian, placing my menu down and saying clearly into my plate, "Roast beef." It appeared instantly.

"It looks as though Demetria gets the idea," said Dumbledore pleasantly before saying into his own plate, "Pork chops!" They appeared.

The rest of the table caught on, declaring their own orders into their plates. No one really spoke much for a while — except Percy, mainly — for we were all occupied with eating. Conversations started back up once the feasting had begun to dwindle down.

"So, Demetria," began Adrian. "How does Hogwarts compare to Durmstrang?"

I swallowed a forkful of roasted potatoes before answering. "Well, we have a castle too, but I wager it's not as big as this one. We've only got four floors. But our grounds are larger than these. Though during this time of the year, we don't have much daylight, so we don't enjoy them as much. But come summer time, we fly almost every day, over the lakes and mountains —"

"Now, now, Demetria!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Don't go giving away anything else, now, or else your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy… One would almost think you didn't want visitors."

He didn't. At least, that's what I figured. Karkaroff was always insistent on making our school Unplottable, concealing its whereabouts so no others could steal our secrets. We weren't hiding anything Dark like some contrary rumors said. Truth be told, I wasn't sure what secrets Karkaroff meant. But I did learn to stop wondering and simply accept the fact that he was a bit barmy.

"Well, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon — or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

I would've felt foolish for releasing a quick breath of laughter, had it not been for Harry's snort into his plate of goulash. Percy frowned at the two of us, but we simply smiled at one another, Dumbledore sending us a very small wink. Meanwhile, Phlegm was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to her date, who was probably too busy staring at her to hear a word she said.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like _zat_." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Her date was in such a daze, he kept missing his mouth with his fork. "Absolutely right," he said at once, quickly catching on and slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like _that_. Yeah."

I whispered my own imitation of Fleur to Adrian…except mockingly…and with a French accent. "Oh, ze Palace of Phlegm is just so mageecal. I 'ave zese seven dwarves 'oo follow me into ze bathroom and tell me I am ze faireest of zem all and take turns wiping my 'uge —"

"I invite you all to stand," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat.

Adrian ceased laughter and we all stood up as well.

Then, with a wave of Dumbledore's wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

A popular wizarding band known as the Weird Sisters, of whom I was never really a fan, now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and Adrian extended his hand to me.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

"I have no other choice," I teased.

"That's the spirit!"

We followed the rest of the champions and their partners out onto the brightly lit dance floor, the Weird Sisters striking up a slow, mournful tune. Adrian placed his other hand on my waist, mine resting upon his shoulder, and we began to dance.

"So what were you laughing about before?" he inquired curiously.

"You mean this doesn't remind you of anything?" I asked.

After a moment, realization struck his face. "Ah yes, the famous Malfoy Christmas Ball," he said fondly.

"Don't act as though you forgot," I smirked. "I wager this was your plan all along to redeem yourself."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he said, dipping me. "I never reveal my secrets." And with that, he brought me back up, causing me to laugh a bit.

My eyes began scanning the crowd of students who'd joined us on the dance floor, in an attempt to find a familiar face…but to no avail. I'd been hoping to see how Viktor and Hermione were, or Grigor and Ginny…or Cedric…

But as the final, quavering note from the bagpipe rang out, applause filling the hall as the music ceased, a familiar face did find me…two familiar faces, actually…just as the band struck up a new, and much faster, song.

"Mind if we cut in, Pucey?" asked Fred.

Adrian looked to me and I smiled. "It's fine with me," he assured. "I was going to sit this one out anyway."

"I'm with you on that," I told him, beginning to walk off with him. But I should've known by now that wouldn't work. Adrian waved to me with a smirk as he made his way back to the champions' table, the Weasley twins pulling me back with them.

"Don't you two have dates of your own to pester?" I asked in jest. "Why torture someone else's?"

"Not to worry, love," George insisted. "They're off dancing."

"Rather exuberantly, at that," Fred added, nodding in their direction. Sure enough, upon turning, I found two birds dancing…well…exuberantly. People were beginning to back away from them.

"Blimey, I hope they don't take someone's eye out," said George only half-jokingly.

"I do, just so long as it isn't Moody's," said Fred humorously. "Bloke's only got one good one as it is."

And then as the twins stared off at Mad-Eye Moody clunking about the dance floor, I took the oppertunity to sneak off. But rather than return to the champions' table, I instead happened upon the table with Ron, Harry, and — Bloody hell, two Parvatis!

"What's with you two?" I asked Harry and Ron, both gazing sulkingly at the dance floor.

Just then, some bloke I figured was from Beauxbatons asked me to dance. "No thank you," I told him, then catching sight of Parvati — one of them, anyway — sitting on Harry's side with her arms crossed, staring hopefully at the Beauxbatons bloke. "But I wager _she_ might."

"Would you?" he asked her in, sure enough, a French accent.

"You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Parvati asked Harry who barely said a word. "Oh never mind," she snapped. "Thanks, Demetria!" And she went off with the gent.

"Oi! Earth to the world's worst dates!" I claimed Harry and Ron's attention. "What's up?" But I lost it just as quickly.

This time, I followed their gazes, tracing Ron's to be on Viktor and Hermione, who appeared to be having a great time dancing together. Next, I followed Harry's to Cedric and his date. That was where my own gaze stayed for a while. In fact, I almost didn't even notice when the song ended and Hermione took a seat in Parvati's empty chair. She was pink in the face from dancing.

"Hi," Harry and I deadpanned in unison. Ron remained silent.

"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

I couldn't help but notice Ron shoot her a withering look. "_Viktor_?" he parroted. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky _yet?"

Hermione looked to him with surprise. "What's up with you?" she asked.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly. "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry and I; we simply shrugged.

Ron, what — ?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron fermently. "He's from a rival school! You — you're —" he floundered for the appropriate term. "_fraternizing with the enemy_, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't be stupid!" she said after a moment. "The _enemy_! Honestly — what of Demetria then?!" She then turned to me and said softly, "No offense, of course."

I simply shook my head to her indifferently, Ron choosing to ignore that comment.

"I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheek glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened — trying to get him to join _spew_, were you?"

And though I'd looked to Harry in hopes that he might share with me what spew was, he was far too caught up in the argument.

"No, I wasn't! If you _really_ want to know, he — he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

A chorus of "awww"s went off in my head. Vik truly was a shy bloke, and he really was quite smitten with Hermione.

"Yeah, well — that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with…He's just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — tell Demetria so she can —"

"You little prat!" I couldn't help it. The words simply came out before I could even think about it. "How dare you accuse Viktor — accuse _me_!? Because we're Karkaroff's students?! I ought to hex you into the next bloody Tournament, you miserable — !"

But before I could utter a single syllable more, a strong arm had been wrapped around my waist and another covering my mouth. They pulled me away until Ron's table was hidden by the crowd of dancing students. And once I was back on the dance floor, my capturer revealed himself…_and _began dancing with me.

"I thought it best to save you from making a horrible mistake," said Finn with a knowing smile. "Wouldn't want one of Karkaroff's students causing a ruckus, now, would we?"

"I wasn't going to cause a ruckus," I assured.

"No, of course not," he said. "Just hex him, right?"

I smiled. "Ron's not a bad bloke, I just — He's confused."

"Well, I hope that hasn't ruined your date," he said pleasantly. "Speaking of which, how is that going?"

I turned to look back at the champions' table, but Adrian was no where in sight. "Shite," I swore.

"Not to worry, Dem," said Finn through a small chuckle. "I explained to Adrian the responsibilities of a champion at such affairs. He's off with my date."

"Well how was your date going before our dates made their own date?"

"Just peachy," he replied. "Daphne Greengrass is her name, by the way."

"Duly noted."

"I trust it's also been duly noted that you still owe someone a dance," Fred popped up again, but this time without George. "May I?" he referred to Finn.

"She's all yours," he said, handing me off. "Just have her home by midnight."

"No promises." Fred winked.

And now it was just the two of us, dancing. "So where's your better half?"

"I'd imagine he's back at the table, summoning the bollocks to ask you to dance," I couldn't tell if that was a serious answer or not. But when he spoke again, it was sincere and he wore a genuine smile. "But you ran off before I could tell you how beautiful you look tonight, Princess."

"Well thank you, Fred," I said, mirroring it. "You clean up rather nicely yourself."

But that smile quickly vanished and was replaced by his usual smirk. "Don't I, though?" he said in jest, but once again, his next words were serious. "So why Pucey?"

"Why not?" I challenged.

"You have two of Hogwarts' most debonair and eligible bachelors in the palm of your hands," he said as though it were obvious.

"I was under the impression that said bachelors already had dates, considering they're so _debonair_ and _eligible_," I played along.

"Well, _I _did. George did not," clarified Fred.

"Yeah, I think he mentioned that."

"And you didn't go with him?!"

"Well then he told me he did have a date!" I defended. "And I was already going with Adrian!"

"Did you tell him that?"

"Er, I think I may have."

"Then of course he'd say he has a date!"

"Does he?!"

"Yes, of course! I wouldn't leave Georgie dateless!" Fred assured me fervently. "Honestly, what kind of brother d'you reckon I am?"

"Sorry, I'm just not really sure what you want me to say," I told him honestly.

Fred's expression softened. "You're right," he admitted.

"Right about wh — ?"

"No use crying over the wrong date," said Fred airily.

"I believe the term is spilled —"

"Trust me, Princess," he said with a sly smile, the song having just ended. "Wait right here."

And as I watched him disappear into the crowd, my gaze finally fell upon Cedric once again. Only this time, our eyes met and he smiled at me before saying something to his date and then walking toward me. I quickly met him more than halfway in order to catch up with the bird and say to her just loudly enough for only her to hear, "You should dance with Harry Potter." She looked to me with a small grin before walking off, hopefully, to Harry's table.

"Talking about me?" said Cedric, as another slow song started up again. "Because if you wanted to know whether or not I'm a good dancer —" He gently took my hand in his and placed my other one on his shoulder, his on my waist; my heart skipped again. Stupid heart.

"Well you _do _owe me one," I reminded him.

"Looks as though that debt is being fulfilled," he said to me, mirroring my smile. "So how's your evening been?"

"Eventful," I shared. "Yours?"

"Not bad, but nothing special either," he confessed indifferently. "Don't get me wrong, Cho's a great girl…but I couldn't exactly come tonight with my first choice."

And because I wasn't entirely sure if he meant me…I made a joke. "Madame Maxime," I said decidedly; Cedric laughed.

"A bit too tall for my liking," he said. "I prefer shorter girls." And then he leaned in to me, pressing his forehead against mine.

Okay, he definitely meant _me_, right?

"Well that's…good," I said lamely. That bloody word again…

"Yes it is."

We'd been just swaying to the music, looking into one another's eyes and smiling. But what happened next was purely on accident…at first. Someone bumped into Cedric from behind, pressing his lips against my forehead. He almost immediately pulled back, his face slightly reddening.

"I'm — That wasn't — Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, it was good." Son of a banshee!

Yet somehow, that was the right thing to say. Cedric seemed to gain confidence, a small smile re-appearing as he leaned in slowly. And I _do _mean slowly. Finally, just before I considered closing the distance myself, someone else (or perhaps the same person, I never bothered to look) bumped into me and pushed me into Cedric, our lips finally meeting. And I wouldn't have pulled away, had it not been for the interruption which came next.

"Son of a — !"

"Easy, Georgie," Fred attempted to calm his twin, which, I turned to see was not the easiest task to accomplish.

"Get off of me!" Georgie demanded, finally pushing past his brother and striding up to me angrily. "What's going on here?!" And he wagged his index finger between Cedric and I.

"George, what is your problem?" I asked urgently, but not yelling.

"I don't have a problem! What makes you think I've got a problem?!" People were beginning to turn and stare.

"Don't you reckon you're over-reacting just a bit here, mate?" Fred came over and tried to soothe him.

"_You're_ the one who told me to come over here and — !"

"Yes, well, perhaps I was wrong," Fred continued to speak calmly. I stole a sideways glance at Cedric, who was appearing rather uncomfortable.

"_Perhaps_?!" parroted George heatedly.

"Alright, what is going on?" I demanded to know, voice raised.

"Apparently you and Pretty Boy is what's going on!" George shot back.

At this point, I hadn't dared look at whatever crowd had gathered to watch us argue, I simply didn't care. All I could focus on was how sodding ridiculous George was being. "Oh my Godric! First you're cross with me for landing myself in the hospital wing, now _this_?! What is going on with you?!"

"Don't worry about what's going on with me!"

"Then don't worry about how I live my life and keep your nose out of my sodding business!"

That was the second Weasley of the night I'd yelled at, and that was two Weasleys too many. It wasn't until I took off through the crowd that I'd actually noticed the people who'd been staring. And, surprisingly, it wasn't many (at least not as many as I'd assumed) but I did easily pick out Ron, Harry, and Percy to be three of those who had been watching. Regardless, I cut my way through, even accidentally breaking up some dancing couples on the way, but I needed to get out and get some air. I was suddenly finding this dress to be a bit of a hassle to stride through a crowd in, not to mention the heels. Oh, for the love of Merlin, don't even get me started on the heels…three inches of pure hell.

"Who does he think he is!" I spoke softly but furiously to myself as I exited the Great Hall. "Constantly getting angry with me…I haven't done a bloody thing wrong!"

I could see through the front doors in the entrance hall, the fluttering fairy lights of the rose garden and decided to make my way toward them. The lights winked and twinkled as I came down the front steps, where I found myself surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. My ears could detect splashing water, which I assumed was a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. I set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but it wasn't long before I'd heard an unmistakably familiar voice…two, at that.

"…don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it —"

"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner, Snape's wand out and blasting rosebushes apart, his expression ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And ten points from Gryffindor, Harris!" he added, catching sight of me on the path ahead.

"But I don't even —"

"That hardly matters!" he continued to snarl. "What're you doing out here?"

Karkaroff was appearing rather discomposed to see me standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, winding it around his finger.

"Just out for a stroll, Snape," was my cheeky response.

"That's _Professor_ Snape to you, Harris," he said shortly.

"As I _tried _to tell you before, I don't even attend this school," I casually reminded him. "You're not a professor of mine, Sev."

He and Karkaroff drew closer. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Harris," Snape warned.

"Fine, but just one." I smirked, Snape appearing unamused and brushing past me, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape without so much as a glance at me. And while I was rather curious of what such a pair could have been discussing, I'd given up on guessing rather quickly, my brain still occupied with what had just occured with George…and Cedric, actually.

I shouldn't have been associating with any of them to begin with. In fact, the only ones suitable to spend time with were the ones I'd been spending the _least _amount of time with. I could only imagine how disappointed Grandad would be if he knew…or my parents. What would they think? Their only child — a disappointment, a failure. They were probably turning in their graves right then and there. The very thought sent me over the edge. I hardly knew my parents and yet, I only longed to make them proud. But there was always a small part of me that hoped _maybe_…they would just want whatever made me happy. Sometimes I wanted to know, but for the most part, I just wanted to remain ignorant so I could keep that hope alive.

But two things I knew for certain — Grandad would never approve if he found out who I'd been socializing with…and I couldn't stay any longer. Tournament or not, I couldn't allow these — dare I say — _friends_ I made to grow any more attached to me, nor I to them. I wouldn't be difficult to replace anyway, I'm sure Karkaroff would be overjoyed to throw Viktor in. And come morning, he'd have his chance.

Following the path I'd taken to enter the rose garden, I made my way out, stopping just before the Great Hall entrance. The Weird Sisters had struck up another slow song and I resisted the urge to peer in and see who Cedric was dancing with, if anyone at all. But just as I was about to succumb, two redheads dashed out in the direction I was headed for the ship. It was George and Ron, probably on their way to find me and apologize. And then I found myself fighting a new urge — one to run over to them and embrace them, tell them it was okay. But it wasn't. I couldn't. And I couldn't go back to the ship either. I had to leave now, and there was only one way to do it.

_Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

I closed my eyes trying to calm myself, trying to focus on Harris Manor. That was just about the extent of my knowledge on Apparition considering it was all my grandad had told me, insisting I should wait until my legal license at seventeen to Apparate. But I still wasn't going anywhere. I opened my eyes to make sure, but the music from the ball was still pounding in my ears. It was then that I realized Hogwarts must've had the very same Anti-Disapparation Jinx which Durmstrang possessed. A right shame too, although it probably would've saved me an undoubted and rather inevitable splinch.

So then how was I to leave?

"Troubled, Miss Harris?" Dumbledore had just stepped out of the Great Hall, eyes twinkling as they always seemed to from behind those half-moon spectacles. "I do hope tonight's festivities have measured up to the many Malfoy Yule Balls I'm sure you have attended."

"Tonight was better than any of them," I told him honestly.

"But you no longer wish to partake?" he asked, tone laced with curiosity.

"My heart's just not in it, Professor." And that, too, was honest.

"Then perhaps your heart is elsewhere," he said wisely, looking away from me and in the direction of what I could only imagine was the ship

"Perhaps," I agreed. And then I seized the oppertunity. "It just doesn't feel the same. I've always gone home for Christmas."

"I can only imagine the pleasures of routine and tradition being lost to me," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Especially being involved in such a tournament, you must be in need of it more than you know."

"I s'pose so." Maybe he was right about that.

Dumbledore continued to peer down at me from behind his half-moon spectacles, blue eyes twinkling in thought. "I'm sure a small visit wouldn't hurt."

"D'you mean that, sir?" I perked up my body, my eyes, as though an electric shock had been surged throughout it. This was the response I'd been hoping to get. "But how would I?"

"Come with me, Demetria," he said, leading me down the familiar path to his office.

I'd only been in it once before, and really just from a distance when I eavesdropped on the conversation held between Dumbledore and Karkaroff. But it was a bit too dark now to see much of anything, although Dumbledore still seemed to know his way around quite well. I followed directly behind and make sure not to bump into anything. From what I was able to make out in the darkness, items were all rather antique. But my eyes had to adjust again, once Dumbledore had thrown something ahead of us and stepped aside. The Floo Powder caused a glow from the emerald green flames now dancing in the fireplace before me. I looked eagerly to Dumbledore who simply gave me a smile and nodded. I stepped into the heatless fire.

"Harris Manor," I declared, and was gone...with no intentions of coming back.


	10. Chapter 9: One of Them

_**Chapter Nine**_

_One of Them_

:.:.:

When the green flames subsided and I stepped out from the fireplace, I immediately knew where I stood. The room in Harris Manor was dark, but a pale moon's glow spilled in and lit it just enough for me to find my way out. As I made my way down the hall, I detected looming voices. Approaching the drawing room I heard them clearly, just behind the wall.

"Well where is the rat now?" I heard Dolohov demand to know. "And who left him in charge of the Dark Lord?!"

"Calm yourself, Antonin," came Malfoy's smooth voice. "The Mark is darkening...burning, is it not? He must be doing _something_ right."

"For once."

"Malfoy's right," said Grandad; my heart sank. For a moment, I'd forgotten he was a part of them. "The Dark Lord is growing stronger every day."

I'd forgotten _I _was to be a part of them. But that was, after all, the entire reason I came home. So before their meeting could proceed any further, I revealed myself from behind the wall and stepped through the threshold. All eyes turned to me, Death Eaters seated all around the room.

"Demetria," greeted Turner, sounding rather pleased to see me. I always had a feeling he was smitten with me.

They all looked to me with polite smiles, except Grandad who simply appeared surprised.

"Sweetheart, what're you doing home?" He seemed apprehensive.

But before I could even concoct an excuse, Malfoy intervened. "I'm sure Karkaroff let something slip. I'm just surprised you didn't bring Draco."

Grandad stood up from the table and made his way over to me where I still stood just past the threshold. "It's really not necessary for you to attend this meeting, Demetria," he told me before realizing something. "How did you get here?"

"Dumbledore said it would be good for me to spend some time at home for a while." It was technically true.

"Well when d'you think you'll be going back?" His voice was quiet yet urgent.

"I'm not," I told him.

He still looked worried. Why was he so worried? "What about...the tournament?"

"The tournament doesn't matter to me," I said before walking past him and over to the table. "This is what matters to me."

Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. But all those seated at the table looked to me with fondness and respect; all but Malfoy. His expression, much like Grandad's when he came back over, was unreadable.

"This calls for a celebration," declared Nigel Mulciber; his fist pounded the table in excitement.

"This calls for the Mark," Dolohov suggested, smirking.

I wondered then if my face spilled out anything I was feeling inside. It was as though my heart froze, my stomach dropped, a giant weight fell upon my shoulders and every breath I inhaled for wasn't enough. To bear the Dark Mark...

"That's preposterous," affirmed Grandad at once. "She's just a young girl, and at school someone is bound to see —"

"You heard her, she isn't going back," Dolohov reminded.

"She's no hermit, she'll be out and about enough for someone to catch a glimpse," Grandad continued to oppose.

"She may go back to school," Malfoy added airily, though he almost looked as on-edge as Grandad.

"Well what does _she_ have to say about this?" asked Dolohov, all eyes in the room focusing on me.

I must've managed to keep calm because I wasn't receiving any odd or concerned looks. However, I wished the same could've been said for my interior. What was I to do? I had just committed myself to the cause in front of them all. How would it look if I rejected the Mark? I couldn't...but I didn't want it either! But there _was_ a third option. Luckily, I was exhausted enough already to pull it off.

–

When I 'came back to', Grandad was still seated at the side of my bed.

"W-what happened?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"You passed out," he said, placing a hand on my forehead. "Not to worry though, I'm sure you were simply overwhelmed. You've had a long night and it was late." He removed his hand.

"What time is it now?" I was now becoming genuinely groggy.

"Nearly three in the morning," he replied. I guess I really had dozed off. "Get some sleep, sweetheart."

But as he rose from my bed, I spoke again. "Why didn't you want me to have it?"

The silence seemed louder then, before he answered. "Tozi zhivot ne e za vas." _**(This life is not for you) **_And that was when I knew we weren't alone. My eyes swept the room and found no one, but when they returned back to my Grandad's, he shifted his toward my door. Probably Turner or someone lurking outside, maybe to ensure I was alright.

"Mislekh, che iskash tova za men." I exchanged. _**(I thought you wanted this for me)**_

Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes begin to glitter with tears. "Nikoga za vas," he said softly. _**(Never for you)**_

"No prez vsichkite tezi godini —" _**(But all these years)**_

He stopped me, placing his hand on the side of my face, and repeated "_Nikoga _za vas," Then he stood up — "Shte govorim poveche, kogato tova e bezopasno." — and made his way to the door. "Goodnight." _**(We'll talk more when it is safe)**_

__"Goodnight," I returned. I then heard Grandad begin to converse with whoever stood outside my door just before he shut it.

His words demanded to be heard inside my head no matter how much I tried to shut them out. _This life is not for you. Never for you. We'll talk more when it is safe. _

Not for you.

Never.

When it is safe.

Not.

Never.

Safe.

Safe...

...safe...

:.:.:

Was I happy with how the Yule Ball ended with Demetria? Obviously not. But was I thrilled to see her and Cedric... Well, you know. No! But did that mean I wished to no longer see her face around Hogwarts? Certainly not. But that was what happened...

I'd borrowed Pigwidgeon from Ron nearly every day to owl her, even voiced my concern to Fred and Lee, but they always suggested she simply went home for the rest of the holiday. And as much as I wanted to believe it, how could it've been true? I asked Finn, Ginny, Hermione, Viktor, Grigor, even Malfoy...even Cedric! None had heard from her since the ball. And on the first day classes were scheduled to resume, she was still no where to be found.

"All of her things are still in the cabin," Finn told me that evening on the way to dinner. "Maybe she just wanted an extra day off, mate."

"You don't reckon it's cause of me, d'you?" What if it was my fault she didn't want to come back? Merlin's beard...I wish she would let me apologize.

Finn looked as though he might say something comforting, but realization flickered and his face fell. That was all the response I needed.

Upon entering the Great Hall, I made a bee-line for the staff table in an effort to find Dumbledore. He was already seated at the head and eating.

"Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you," I said as I approached him. He looked up from his plate with nothing but a smile twinkling in his eyes.

"Not a bother at all, Mr. Weasley," he assured. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"It's Demetria," I said at once. "She left unannounced the night of the Yule Ball and still isn't back."

"My apologies, Mr. Weasley, but I gave Miss Harris the opportunity to return home for the holiday," shared Dumbledore with genuine sympathy. "She wasn't feeling at all herself."

"Then wouldn't she be back by now?" I asked without expecting an answer, and when his eyes scanned the hall behind me, I spoke again. "She hasn't kept in touch with anyone... Professor, we got into a bit of a row the night she left...I'm afraid _I'm _the reason she hasn't returned."

Dumbledore's eyes returned to mine.

"I've owled her every day and she never responded. You don't reckon something's happened, d'you?"

After a long moment, he stood silently and made his way around the long staff table to stand before me. "Come with me," he instructed, commencing his way toward the exit. "I have a far more effective method of communication."

We came to the corridor holding the entrance to the castle that Durmstrang and Beuxbatons students took. Glancing out into the blanket of snow which covered the grounds, I saw not one small footprint among the large ones coming from the ship. A pang of guilt stabbed at me once again.

"Tell me, Mr. Weasley, have you ever been successful in casting a Patronus?" Dumbledore looked to me with curiosity, his wand at the ready.

I retrieved mine from my back pocket. "No, sir," I admitted. "But I'm a quick learner."

"Very good, then," Dumbledore smiled. "I take it you are aware of what a Patronus is, yes?"

"Well yes but, er, how is that going to help me?"

"Patience, Mr. Weasley." But he spoke calmly, his smile remaining. And then at once, a stream of silver-white light had flowed from the wand, quickly shaping itself into a white, translucent Phoenix. Dumbledore then lowered his wand, the silver thread between it and the Phoenix disappearing then. He stepped closer to it and whispered something to it. The Phoenix then turned to me and opened its beak, Dumbledore's voice emitting from it.

"They can also relay messages," it said; and then it was gone just as quickly.

I looked to the Headmaster in relative awe. "How did you...?"

"First, you must...think of a memory," he began simply.

"A memory, sir?"

"Yes, but not just any," he clarrified. "Think of the happiest you can ever remember being, and focus on it. Allow it to fill you up until you feel that happiness once again now. And then, recite the incantation..._Expecto Patronum_."

"_Expecto Patronum_," I repeated to ensure I heard correctly.

"Precisely."

I nodded and proceeded to close my eyes. The happiest I'd ever been? My initial thought was perhaps a prank with Fred, but racking through my mind, there weren't any that made me _truly_ happy. So I decided on my first prank I'd ever pulled. The first time I'd walked into Zonko's. When Fred and I decided to open up our own joke shop.

And once I had it, I opened my eyes, wand at the ready, and incanted, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A faint, vapor of smoke puffed out from my wand, but that was all.

"Happier," suggested Dumbledore airily.

Happier than pranks... Quidditch? Nah, not enough... What about Quidditch with Fred and Ron back at the Burrow? The Burrow! Being home with them and Ginny, Mum and Dad, Bill and Charlie when they're home, and even Percy... When Harry comes to stay and, sure, Hermione too! I imagined myself back at the Burrow with everyone sitting and eating together, laughing and telling stories. For a moment, I felt as though I was actually there.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

At first, I thought it was simply another puff of smoke. But it transformed itself into a silvery, flowy...coyote. It wasn't at all like the Phoenix which had appeared almost solid, glowing white. My coyote was wispy, like an imaginative cloud of smoke. And I noticed, as soon as I grew disgruntled, it vanished.

"Very well done, Mr. Weasley," praised Dumbledore. "A Patronus is not the easiest task to accomplish, and you struggled far less than most wizards at their first go."

"It wasn't nearly as good as yours, sir," I confessed, almost sheepishly.

"Most first attempts are not," he explained. "But it will be enough to deliver a message. Now then, conjure it again."

I took a moment to recreate the scene at the Burrow in my head again. But this time, there was an addition. Perhaps because I now remembered I would be sending the message to her, I thought of Demetria; placed her in the Burrow. She sat next to me...close. I put my arm around her...she smiled.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

There before me, stood a white coyote extending from my wand. Perfectly formed and glowing, it looked expectantly toward me and I looked to Dumbledore, smiling proudly.

"To Demetria Harris," he began for me.

Approaching the coyote, I took a knee and brought myself closer to its face. "To Demetria Harris," I parroted in a whisper. "I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."

The moment I stood up, my coyote had taken off. I watched it run off into the snow and leave no footprints behind, until it came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and disappeared.

"Will it be alright?" I asked curiously.

"Quite, Patronuses aren't like real animals," replied Dumbledore. "They're spirits. Though speaking of, I must say I wasn't expecting a coyote for you, Mr. Weasley."

"What then, a hyena perhaps?" I asked in jest.

"Certainly not," Dumbledore smiled. "Although...the coyote is more than a trickster. They tend to symbolize wisdom...energy...family orientation... Perhaps it is a nice fit for you."

"Thank you, Professor."

I was still in a mild state of shock that the difference between a wispy Patronus and a full-fledged one...was Demetria.

:.:.:

_I wonder if Mum ever had to do this..._

I stood outside a popular Muggle bar and club in London by the name of Lost Angel. From the front window, I could barely see a thing on the inside — it was dimly lit and glowing blue. Those under 18 were not admitted, so I was given something Grandad said the Muggles called a 'fake I.D.' in order to get in. It was a little plastic card with my picture and fake information on it, which I retrieved from a small black wristlet I had secured around my wrist. The wristlet, much like my outfit, was not my decision. I was wearing a skin tight, short, black dress and about 6 bloody inches of black heels. All I had to warm me against the frigid January air was a small, red coat...well, and tights but they were lacey... Even the red lipstick which coated my lips was not my idea, though the rest of my makeup was. Ever since the Yule Ball, I began wearing eye makeup.

Ugh, the Yule Ball...

_No, don't think about that now, _I told myself. _Just focus. Remember why you're here._

And perhaps it was because I was beginning to spend far too much time with the Death Eaters constantly at my house, but I didn't exactly feel bad for what I was about to do. Then again, maybe I truly was cut out for this life. But Grandad didn't want it for me...I still never got the chance to talk to him about that...

"It looks much better from inside," came a voice. I turned to see it was the gentleman in all black standing at the door. He smiled and opened it for me. Guess I didn't need the I.D. "Go on in, love."

Love. I thought of George.

_Will you stop? _I tried telling myself again.

And with that, I immediately shook the thought out of my mind, smiled at the man, and walked in. As soon as I did, loud music consumed my ears and I swore I could feel it in my heartbeat. I made a bee-line for the bar and took a seat; I wasn't sitting alone for long.

The bartender came over and placed a glass of amber liquid before me. "Compliments of that gentleman, over there," he said, indicating to the rather young looking man on the other side of the bar. Not as young as I, certainly, but he couldn't have been anything older than 20, if that. And he was incredibly handsome.

The bloke smiled, and when I returned it, he got up and made his way over. I took a sip of the amber liquid before he did, just in case it was a taste I had to get used to. It wasn't _all _that bad, but it was very sweet...and caused a burning sensation in my chest for a moment. Luckily, I'd recovered by the time the bloke occupied the seat next to me.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you in here before," he said, smiling charmingly.

"I take it you're a regular, then?" I inquired.

"I wouldn't say _that_ —"

"Got you a refill on _the_ Jack Gelling, mate," said the bartender, sliding a tall beverage in front of the bloke, Jack.

I looked to him with a smirk.

"Alright so _perhaps_ I am," he admitted with a small laugh. "But it's close by campus...sort of. D'you go to school around here?"

_He's still in school? Do Muggles ever get out?_

"No, I'm just here on holiday," I told him. Technically true.

"D'you have a place to stay?" he asked, still smiling.

_Ugh, what a little prick_, ran through my mind._ Now I really don't feel bad at all for what I'm doing_. But just like that, my feelings changed and a wave of guilt washed over me.

"Sorry, er, that was creepy," he apologized, hand wrapping around the back of his neck. "I just meant — family out here?"

"I wouldn't say _that_," he laughed at my use of his line. "I live over in Wiltshire, but I go to school in Norway."

"Norway?" he repeated incredulously. "Bloody hell, what for?"

"Adventure." I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink.

Jack appeared impressed. "So d'you speak any Norwegian?"

"Well, yes, but I'm far more fluent in Bulgarian," I told him.

His smile remained in tact, but he began shaking his head.

"What?" I inquired, giggling.

"You can't be _that _good," he said simply. "This is all too good to be true. You're like no one I've ever met before."

If he thought all of that was impressive, I could only imagine his reaction if he saw me use magic.

"It's all true," I insisted.

"Prove it," he challenged. "Say something in Bulgarian."

"Moeto ime e Demetria," I said effortlessly.

"Sorry, _Demetria_, but I'm afraid anyone could master 'My name is' in any language," he said in jest.

"You didn't let me finish." I smirked; he gave me an indication to continue.

"Moeto ime e Demetria. Az sŭm veshtitsa. Az otivam da vi otvede do kŭshtata mi. Mozhete da umra tam. Tolkova sŭzhalyavam." _**(My name is Demetria. I'm a witch. I'm going to take you to my house. You may die there. I'm so sorry)**_

Jack looked to me in awe. When he composed himself, he said, "Well you could've just made all of that up and —"

"Oh, shut up," I teased, slapping his arm; he laughed. "It was all _real _Bulgarian."

"So what'd you say?" he inquired.

"That I think you're very sweet and handsome, and I'd like for you to come back to my house," I coolly said.

Jack appeared a bit surprised at first, but collected himself and simply gave me the same charming smile as when he first came over. "I'd love to."

Muggle transportation was _so_ inconvenient, but that's what we had to take. Jack got us something called a taxi, a little black box of a car, and this unfortunately left us with quite a period of talking time. And once I found myself starting to enjoy his company, I almost wished I'd picked up someone less interested in talking, if you know what I mean. So I made the first move, just with a simple peck on the cheek. But it caused him to stop mid-sentence and turn to face me with a sly grin. I forced a giggle and looked away. Next thing I knew, his hand had brought my face back and our lips met. That was pretty much how it stayed for the remainder of the drive.

We arrived in front of Harris Manor, Jack paying the driver and then stepping out of the taxi with me.

"What, this is it?" he teased.

"You're an arse," I returned in jest. The taxi drove off and I began walking toward the house, Jack following behind.

"Speaking of arse...ladies first has it's advantages." He then proceeded to whistle and I turned back to look at him smirking.

"Alright, let's go," I said, though still smiling, ushering him along until he walked beside me. When we reached the front door, I didn't even have to unlock it. I simply turned the doorknob and stepped inside, shutting the door behind Jack.

"D'you always leave it unlocked?" he asked with a bit of a laugh.

"No, but I'm sure my grandad was expecting me." My voice seemed quiet then. I'd nearly forgotten.

"Er, your grandad's home?" Jack then seemed rather embarrassed.

"No," I told him simply.

He looked to me with confusion, but all I had to do to change that was come close and lock my arms around his neck. Jack then closed the small bridge between us and began kissing me again. I started backing up down the hall leading to the drawing room, and though it was dark, I knew my way.

"Relax," Jack advised in reference to how on edge I was. I couldn't help it, I was growing worried about what was about to happen. But after a moment, it didn't seem like it ever would. "You said no one was home."

"Yeah." I smiled and decided to pretend it was true. After all, it certainly seemed that way.

So I relaxed, and allowed myself to enjoy the next time Jack's lips found mine. I finally was able to focus on it, and I could taste the mixing of the liquors on our tongues. I could hear him feeling around for furniture and finally found the couch, lowering me on to it. But as soon as I could feel his body on top of mine, the feeling vanished. I opened my eyes to find the lights flicked on, Death Eaters now entering the room and one of them holding Jack who was struggling to break free. It was Turner, in a bit of a jealous rage, no doubt. I watched Grandad walk in last; he couldn't even meet my eyes.

"Well done, Demetria," said Dolohov admiringly.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at Jack. I stood up from the couch and faced the other way.

"What is this?" asked Jack. "Demetria, what's going on? Is this some sort of gang?"

"_Crucio!_" cried Dolohov, wand pointed at Jack who was released by Doyle and fell to the floor; he cried out in agony. It was only then that I looked at him. "Silence, you filthy Mudblood!"

"De-Deme — Help!" He continued to writhe on the ground in pain, twisting and squirming like a worm. A helpless worm...

"Didn't you hear him?!" Mulciber joined in then. "_Crucio!_ Bite your tongue, Mudblood!"

I could only imagine such a pain. It was almost as though I could feel it inside myself as I watched it surge throughout Jack once again. This time I could hear tears, and then I saw them when his eyes met my own. I couldn't look away. As much as I didn't want to watch him as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again, I physically couldn't move my gaze from where he held it. Jack looked straight at me and screamed. I turned my back to him.

"Oi, what's the matter with this one?" came Thorfinn Rowle. "She didn't even flinch when she watched the World Cup fall to shambles!"

"She and Draco were running away," Malfoy defended. "I told them to."

"They're to be Death Eaters, Lucius!"

"They're only children!" cried out Grandad.

"You stay out of this, old man!" shouted Lucas Avery before I heard a crash.

Whipping around, I saw Grandad being thrown across the room into the bookshelf just with a flick of Avery's wand. I immediately retrieved mine from down the back of my dress, secured under my bra hook, and aimed for Avery. But before I could even think to cast a spell, my wand was taken by Dolohov using his own.

"The Dark Lord may not question your loyalty, but _I _do!" announced Avery, wand still drawn toward Grandad.

"ENOUGH!" Dolohov shouted. Everyone fell silent and still...everyone except Jack. He remained on the floor, whimpering and wincing. Dolohov returned my wand to me and stood behind me, hands on my shoulders. "Do it," he whispered in my ear. "Make him beg for his life." And in the moment I held Jack's gaze once again, I began convincing myself to do it...

It was just a Muggle...

_ I wonder if Mum ever had to do this._

I didn't even know the bloke.

_ The Order of the Phoenix wiped out quite a bit of Death Eaters. Some got off with serving life in Azkaban. Your parents...they weren't so lucky._

I had to make my parents proud.

_ You look just your mother, you know. But your father is definitely in there as well._

And my grandfather...

_This life is not for you._

But how could I?

_Dobby thinks you would make a wonderful Gryffindor, Miss Demetria!_

"Do it now."

_I mean you've got to do what you want, it's your life after all. _

My eyes couldn't leave Jack's.

_You've just got to be…true to yourself. And don't be afraid to let that heart of yours decide, Princess._

"_Crucio!_" I casted it...but not on Jack.

Dolohov sunk to the ground, releasing a brief cry of suffering, but that was it. I'd forgotten all about the initiation to become a Death Eater...

"Why, you little — !" Dolohov grabbed my ankle from the ground and pulled me down before I could run away. Though I don't see how I would've managed it; I was still wearing 6 inch heels.

But before plummeting to the ground, I watched Grandad attempt to rise up and defend me, but Dolohov was already on his feet. He made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Grandad's chest and he fell back to the floor, seemingly lifeless.

"Grandad!" I cried out, strained.

"Dear old Grandad's just checked out for a bit, love; nothing to worry about," came David Wilkes cynically; others chuckled, though not all. Not Malfoy or Doyle...and Dolohov was still looking rather furious.

"Oh, Antonin, do lighten up," Wilkes continued to smirk. "Demetria's just asking for the proper initiation."

Initiation to become a Death Eater requires more than the Dark Mark branded on your arm. I've seen that, and it seemed painful enough. But the other half...I've seen that too. It was Turner, actually, about two years ago, when I was 12 and he was 18, I watched him write in the pain of the Cruciatus Curse until he couldn't scream anymore and they say your body grows accustomed to it. I've also seen, however, some that never made it to that stage and simply went insane. I've seen one person die.

"Harris, you little imp." Dolohov began mirroring Wilkes's sly grin then.

"She's too young, she'll die!" Malfoy interjected, astonished that they would even suggest such a thing.

"Nonsense, she'll be fine!" insisted Mulciber. "Benjamin was around her age...and size!" He indicated over to Turner, others chuckling. "He made it out just fine."

"What d'you say, Demetria?" asked Dolohov.

I had gotten back on to my feet during their ickle exchange. "I say —"

"_Crucio!_"

Before I could even _think_ to refuse, I was screaming. No, not screaming, it couldn't've been. It was so strained and yet ear-piercing. I'd never heard myself sound like this. I'd never been in so much pain before. How could I have watched Jack endure this? How was _I _enduring this? I screamed until I didn't even realize I was any longer, I grew so numb to it...but not to the pain. No, that remained as strong as ever. Like a white hot burning sensation throughout my body, building even behind my eyes. I could feel tears bubbling, but I refused to let Dolohov — or any of them, in fact — see me cry. And once the curse had lifted for a moment and I realized I was still screaming, I stopped and kept my mouth shut...because he hit me with it again.

It felt as though my bones were breaking and then growing back over and over. It felt as though my organs were continuously being blown up like fireworks. The blood in my veins boiled. My body writhed on the ground. I thought I was contorting it in some strange way, but that was unlikely. At one point, I was sure my torso had snapped in two, but I still never screamed. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheeks to prevent it from happening, and I was fairly certain my mouth was bleeding at that point.

The curse lifted once again, but this time it wasn't Dolohov's decision. Malfoy had snatched his wand from his grip, and the two began arguing. I honestly could barely hear a thing, my own screams were still ringing in my ears. I seized the opportunity to crawl off behind the couch. I knew it wouldn't do me any good to leave, the house was only so big, after all. So I just leaned my head up against the sofa and gripped at my rib cage. The pain still lingered.

Suddenly, a porcelain white...spirit...of an animal stood before me. It must've been a wolf or a coyote... It leaned in close to me, opened its mouth, and just when I thought I was delirious from the pain, I heard something that instantly brought me back — George Weasley.

"I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."

The words...his voice...it came from this animal.

"George Weasley," I said admiringly in a hoarse whisper. My face did its best to smile.

At the mention of his name, the spirit leaned its ear to me. But I was suddenly pulled from the illusion that must've been, because someone had casted the Cruciatus Curse on me through the couch. This time I couldn't hold back; it caught me off guard and I released another cry of pain. Glass bones shattered...again. I could feel everything inside of me breaking, everything on the outside burning.

"Stop it!" I couldn't stand it any longer, I was so weak that I felt ill. "Please stop! Make it stop!"

"Antonin!" cried out Turner. "Enough!"

Dolohov ceased and I thanked Merlin I was still hidden because I certainly didn't want any of them to see what happened next. As silently as I could...I vomited.

"You know she isn't ready," said Turner quietly yet menacingly. "You tortured your Muggle, leave her out of it. She's fourteen for Merlin's sake."

"Always a buzzkill, eh, Benjy?" said Avery; he saw his way out, as did the rest.

"What a wanker," David Wilkes agreed upon his exit.

Malfoy stayed for a moment, he and Turner moving Grandad — still unconscious — to the couch. He then looked to me with remorse and nodded to Turner before he departed as well.

Turner — er, Benjamin — draped his jacket around my shoulders, and I just realized I was shivering. I wasn't really cold...just in shock, I reckon. My eyes scanned the room for the coyote, but it was no where to be found. I s'posed it wasn't real, after all. My eyes, instead, found another still body on the floor. I rushed over and kneeled beside Jack.

I couldn't even find my voice, perhaps from the curse or even the tears that threatened to spill over and the lump in my throat. But I didn't even have to say a word, Benjamin was shaking his head. He appeared as genuinely sad as I did...perhaps he didn't want this life for himself either.

I found my voice then. "My fault."

"Absolutely not," Benjamin stated decisively. "And don't you ever think that."

All I could do was nod.

"We can...figure out what to, er, do with him in the morning, alright?" said Benjamin.

"Jack Gelling," I told him, standing up. "That was his name."

He nodded. "We can find his family."

And then I knew for a fact that Benjamin wasn't like the others, he didn't want this life. It chose him like it chose me. And I also realized he wasn't 'smitten with me', he was looking out for me...because he knew I was like him.

"D'you...er... Are you leaving?" I asked him somewhat sheepishly.

He looked toward the door that the other Death Eaters had vanished behind, shaking his head. "No, I'll stay."

I motioned for him to follow me as I began making my way for the staircase. "Reckon they'll come back?"

"Doubt it," Benjamin told me, following behind. "But you never really know with Dolohov."

The thought of waking up in the middle of the night to the breaking of my bones again... I lost my balance and nearly fell backwards off the stairs. Benjamin put his hand to my back to ensure I didn't.

"You should probably get out of those shoes," he suggested, amused.

I reached the top of the staircase and turned to face him. "Yeah," I agreed, not knowing what else to say. The thought still remained vivid in my mind. "Um, my grandad's room is...right there." I pointed to the white double doors.

"I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight," Benjamin said darkly before offering a small smile. "But thank you."

I nodded and opened the door to my own room — my father's old bedroom. I'd left nearly every poster up from when he occupied it, most were even of him as a Tutshill Tornado. My favorite one hung above my bed: my father clutched the Quidditch World Cup from up on his broom, zoomed down to the ground where my mother waited for him, and kissed her. How could they have wanted this life? How could they have wanted it for me? I was beginning to think no one really _wanted _it, it was just the life chosen for them.

Finally kicking off those bloody heels, the skin-tight dress was next to go. But unfortunately, I'd forgotten there was a zipper in the back. Suddenly I wished Benjamin _was_ actually a bit smitten with me, then perhaps it would've have been such an uncomfortable request. But regardless, I wanted to get out of the damn thing, so I made my way over to the double doors and knocked before opening one slightly.

"Come in, Demetria," said Benjamin's voice from the other side. I let myself in to find his back to me, gazing out the large, bay window before him. "Scared, already?" He seemed genuinely concerned, not just poking fun at me.

"Scared to ask a favor of you, actually," I admitted, walking over to him.

Benjamin pivoted, concern now seen etched upon his face. "What is it?"

I turned my back to him in response, collecting my hair and placing it all in front of one shoulder. I could hear him release a small breath of laughter. He didn't say a word, but I could feel the dress loosening as he brought the zipper down.

Just then, there came a loud thud from downstairs. My heart stopped, entire body frozen as though I were trapped in the Full Body-Bind Curse. It must've been Dolohov, back to finish what he'd started. I looked to Benjamin, he was already moving toward the door, wand out in front of him.

"Stay here," he advised, waiting for my nod of agreement before disappearing behind the door.

I waited a moment before running after him, though stopping at the top of the staircase. It was pitch black downstairs...and my wand was still somewhere in the drawing room. I heard someone say my name rather softly, a good distance away, and then I saw a jet of scarlet light shot out at the bottom of the stairs.

"Demetria?!" I knew that voice...

"Who the sodding hell are you?!" Benjamin called back.

"Are you the one who hurt her?!"

Benjamin didn't even have the chance to answer, because our house guest could be heard running and slamming into him. That was when I rushed down the stairs and tried my best to avoid being smacked into, feeling my way along the walls in order to find — the room was suddenly illuminated — the light.

"Demetria, I told you to stay upstairs," Benjamin scolded, though more gravely than angry, the fighting having come to a halt.

I wasn't even looking at him though, instead my eyes were soaring in the blue skies of nonother than George Weasley's.

"George, what're you doing here?" I asked him, shocked.

"You know this bloke?" Benjamin inquired.

But George ignored everything and tugged at Benjamin's collar. "I _said_, 'are you the one who hurt her'?!"

"He didn't hurt me!" I defended. George's eyes finally fell upon me, and they widened as soon as he realized what I was wearing. But after I self-consciously went to hold the back of my dress closed, that was when fire was back in George's eyes.

"Looks like he was about to!"

"What're you on about?" challenged Benjamin.

"Oh please, don't act so coy!" George shouted. "I hear Demetria screaming, see her dress nearly off — You filthy, miserable, prick!"

He swung his arm to punch Benjamin, but I leapt in to push it off course before it could do any damage.

"George, wait, how did you hear me screaming?" I asked him, but he was in no mood for questioning.

"A nice, forceful shag?" George continued to shout in Benjamin's face who was now trying to keep his temper. "Is that how you get your kicks?!"

"Someone used the Cruciatus Curse on her. Not — me — someone else who is no longer here," Benjamin explained as calmly as he could manage.

I could see George's expression softening then. "Who was it?"

"Antonin Dolohov," Benjamin was having a much easier time composing himself then. "He's a Death Eater."

"I know," was all George said for a moment, looking at me as though I'd just died and come back. "Why was he here?"

"George, how did you hear me scream?" I asked again.

"The coyote you saw was my Patronus; Dumbledore taught me how to conjure it and send messages with it. You must've said my name and sent me the reply back...I heard you screaming and begged Dumbledore to help me find you, and so I came in through your fireplace," was his quick reply. Literally, he rushed it all out in one breath. "Would've been here sooner if I didn't have to change into Muggle clothes... Now, why was a Death Eater here?"

Benjamin looked to me. Now was my chance. I could finally let the secret out and George would know why I couldn't be his friend. Hell, I'm sure he wouldn't even _want _to be my friend if he found out. But then I realized that I didn't have to do this to myself. George never had to know.

"I dunno, he just...showed up," I lied effortlessly.

"Why would he do that?" inquired George. "You can't be Muggle-born, you go to Durmstrang." It was true that our school did not admit Muggle-borns, I just wasn't aware that it was such common knowledge.

"I'm not, I'm pure-blood," I explained. "But that's exactly why he was here. Ever since the Dark Mark appeared at the World Cup, they've been trying to recruit new followers...and they tried to take my grandad."

George looked to me with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry," he told me, before his eyes shifted to Benjamin, suspicion taking place in them. "Then who's he?"

"_He _is Benjamin Turner," he introduced himself. "Friend of the family."

"Just a friend?" George pressed.

"Yes," both Benjamin and I said in unison.

George continued to look at my rather disorderly attire. Even with my hand still holding the dress closed, I felt exposed.

"Well...I'll just be upstairs...changing," I announced, practically running up my stairs. I'd made it about half way before George's voice sounded again.

"Did you leave because of me?"

I took a moment to think up an excuse before I turned around to face him. "No," I told him. "I came home to be with my grandad. Things were getting to be a bit hectic, what with the tournament and...you getting angry with me over everything."

George hung his head. "Sorry about that... Cedric's been asking about you, by the way," he said grudgingly; my heart nearly skipped a beat at the very mention of his name. George picked his head back up and looked at me. "You're coming back, aren't you?"

I looked to Benjamin before I replied, his brown eyes spilling out warmth and his expression reading nothing but understanding. "Yes, I'm coming back," I said finally.

A genuine smile lit up George's face before Benjamin ushered him into the drawing room and I went up the stairs.

"Please excuse the unconscious bodies," I heard Benjamin say. "We weren't expecting company."

When I'd returned to my room, I finally freed myself from the dress. But it wasn't long after I'd done so, that an unwanted visitor had Apparated before where I stood in my...er, bra and knickers. I tried reaching behind me on my bed to cover myself with the dress, but to no avail. The moment I thought to reach for my wand, I realized it was still down in the drawing room, and the moment I opened my mouth to scream for help, my guest pressed his hand against my mouth.

"Bad timing, I reckon?" said Dolohov cynically.

I kept attempting to bite his hand, pushing forward so my teeth could reach his hand. And when I finally did and he jerked his hand away, I shouted.

"Ben —!" That was all I got out before he put his hand back.

"Should've known Doyle'd stay behind," was all Dolohov said about that. "Now you'd better listen, Harris," he pushed his other hand against my throat, allowing no air into my collapsing lungs, as my back was forced on to the bed. "There's already been suspicion about your grandad's allegiance, just like there was about your father's. You would _not _want the same for yourself."

"Demetria?!" I could hear Benjamin call up.

"Something about that father of yours never sat right with me," continued Dolohov; I attempted to break free of his bonds at the very mention of my dad. "Ooh, a touchy subject, I see. Well I s'pose it makes sense — why ol' Carlisle'd keep it a secret. Wants you to sport the Dark Mark, after all, doesn't he? I know _I _do. But maybe not on your arm. He's right, you should keep it more hidden."

As though bringing up my father and the Death Eaters wasn't enough to infuriate me, Dolohov's hand moved from its place on my throat to my forearm. I could feel anger literally boiling inside of me, surging throughout my veins, reaching down into my fingertips.

"Perhaps you could get it somewhere else."

His hand began tracing my body, he moved all along until he reached my chest. And then two things happened at once. I'm not sure which came first, if one of them even did, but I know Benjamin and George bursted through my door and I performed wandless magic.

It was a ray of white light from my fingertips and it jetted out, knocking Dolohov back against the wall. Benjamin raced over to him, dragging him to his feet and out of my room, and George ran to me.

"Was that the Death Eater?" he asked me urgently; I nodded, hand caressing my throat. "What happened?"

I was having trouble speaking, so I took a moment and then explained as best I could manage. "He came in...couldn't scream...tried to...Dark Mark..."

Apparently that was a good enough explanation for him, his eyes growing wide as he understood. "And that beam of light, what was that?"

"Wandless magic." I shrugged.

"I've never seen it look like that," he said skeptically. "You can do wandless magic?"

I gave a small breath of laughter and a shrug of my shoulders.

"Demetria, does every dangerous situation require you to be half naked?" Benjamin asked in jest upon his re-entrance.

George looked, once again, as though he were just noticing me. I, myself, had forgotten for a moment that I lacked any clothing.

Where's Dolohov?" he shot up off the bed to ask.

"Disapparated," Benjamin replied indifferently.

"Dem, you've got to come back to Hogwarts with me _tonight_," said George decidedly.

"Are you mad?" I asked him, looking around for clothes. Most of them were still either at Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Anything I'd left at home was already dirty thanks to my overstayed welcome. "That's the first place he'll come looking for me!"

"It's also the safest," he reasoned.

"George is right," Benjamin agreed. "You've got to go now."

"But what about Grandad?" I asked him, digging through my hamper now.

"Oh, honestly," said George in a breath. He pulled his arms out of the blue button-down shirt he was wearing, revealing the plain white t-shirt he had underneath, and opened it for me to put my own arms through it.

"I'll be here when he wakes up and I'll tell him what happened," Benjamin assured. "He'd want you to be safe, he'd tell you to go."

"What about Jack?" I didn't make eye contact with anyone, just continued slowly buttoning. And once I'd finished that, I took my time unrolling the sleeves that had been pushed up to quarter length on George.

"I'll take care of it," Benjamin told me genuinely, meeting my eyes; I knew he would.

"Alright, let's go," I told George after a moment.

"You're not taking anything with you?" he inquired.

"Does it really look like I _have _anything to take with me?" I returned, gesturing around my room and then to my attire.

"Fair enough," he concluded, exiting the room.

I followed him, Benjamin behind me, as we made our way to the room with the fireplace. But first, I made a quick detour to the drawing room to retrieve my wand. And I took a moment to look at Jack, lying there lifelessly on the floor. His eyes were still opened wide, fear evident and pouring from them. There was even a single glistening river that had ran down his face and stained it. I kneeled down to wipe it away and then shut his eyes. His death was because of me. I might as well've been the one casting the curse on him. I killed him.

_How do you come back from something like that intact and unfazed? Is it even possible? In my case, I've had to learn to make it possible. I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…built to function without one._

George was waiting for me in the fireplace when I entered the room. He held the Floo powder at the ready, but I took a moment before stepping in. I stood before Benjamin and wrapped my arms around him; he automatically followed suit.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Of course," he replied.

I pulled away and stood beside George in the fireplace. One last look at Benjamin and then — "Hogwarts!" — we were swallowed up by the heatless, emerald green flames. When they subsided, I had expected to be in Dumbledore's office. But as it turned out, there was more than one fireplace in the castle connected to the Floo network, because George and I found ourselves to be in the kitchens.

"Well this is rather inconvenient," said George. "S'pose I should've said Gryffindor common room. Although it works out better for you, I can walk you to the shi —"

"I don't want to go back to the ship," I said shortly; he appeared confused. "Not tonight. I'm not ready to answer everyone's questions."

"All right, well you could...stay with me tonight," he modestly suggested, hand beginning to fidget with one ear; it must've been turning red again.

I simply nodded, following George out of the kitchens and then the basement altogether. When we emerged, the corridors were only vaguely lit with the occasional torch here and there. It reminded me of the first time the twins snuck me down into the kitchens. Which reminded me...

"Have you got the map?"

"I wish," said George, crestfallen. "Fred and I gave it back to Harry. I say he should at least lend us his Invisibility Cloak every now and again."

I remembered sharing that cloak with Harry as we watched the dragons in the Forbidden Forest. Speaking of Harry and the tournament...I'd completely forgotten to share with him and Cedric that I'd solved the egg's clue.

"Well with any luck, Filch'll stay in his office...unless Peeves feels like causing trouble tonight."

We walked slowly and silently down the corridor, keeping close to the sides and peeking around corners before we turned them. I, of course, followed behind George.

"Who's Peeves?" I asked.

"The most notorious and troublesome poltergeist in British history, and he haunts our castle," George said softly in reply. "He loves mischief and chaos...and, of course, getting on Filch's nerves."

"Well let's hope he doesn't tonight," I said.

After I finally convinced George to move a bit faster, we'd finally reached Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor, approaching the portrait of the Fat Lady which I recalled from the last time I'd been there with Hermione before the Yule Ball.

"Fairy lights," said George rather faintly. The Fat Lady did not hear, for she remained asleep — snoring, I might add. "Fairy lights," George said it louder; Still no response. "Fairy lights, dammit!"

"Oh!" The Fat Lady awoke with a start, angered as she looked upon George and I. But she swung open her portrait, regardless. "No manners. Have you any idea of the time?!"

"Yeah yeah, cranky old bat," George said after the portrait shut behind us. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "This way, love."

His hand searched for mine, but when he found it, he didn't weave his fingers in between mine, simply held it like a parent holds their child's. The flames of the fireplace were out as well as the torches, so the only source of light spilled in from the window — a faint moonlight. George led me to the spiral staircase I remembered climbing with Hermione, although I figured since there were two, one was for birds and the other for blokes. Another difference between this common room and the one back at Durmstrang — our dormitories weren't connected to the common room, though our school didn't divide into Houses. My room was separate from the other blokes' though, being the only girl, so I didn't have any roommates. It must've been nice...or annoying, I couldn't decide.

We arrived at what I could only assume was the sixth year boys' dormitory, George using his free hand to quietly open the door. He closed it behind me once we'd stepped in, and continued to guide me to his four-poster bed. Though it was dark, I could make out the beds, the layout exactly the same as Hermione's dormitory. I could hear, and sort of see, George pull away the curtains from his bed, and then usher me forward.

"Ladies first," I whispered.

"I'm trying," he said in jest, his hand now applying a bit of pressure to the small of my back.

"George Weasley, I'm wearing nothing but your shirt, I'm not crawling across your bed to give you a front row seat to my arse." I was only half-joking.

"I wasn't trying to —"

Someone in their own four-poster stirred. We froze until the noise had ceased, and even a few moments after.

"You can have my bed," he explained in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible.

"Where will you sleep?" I matched his voice level.

"There's a perfectly comfortable sofa downstairs," he reasoned.

"And what happens when your roommates try to wake you up and find me here instead?"

"Alright, you've got a point," he admitted. "But just get in, I promise I can't see a thing. I won't even look."

I admitted defeat as well, climbing into the bed all the way on the other side and tucking myself under the covers before George did the same. He shut the curtain, enclosing us in the bed, but we each kept to our own sides...at least at first.


	11. Chapter 10: Good to be Back

_**Chapter Ten**_

_Good To Be Back_

:.:.:

I woke up that morning next to George Weasley. No, not _next to_. More like..._on_...sort of. My head was on his chest, his hand resting on my head as though he were playing with my hair. And maybe it was because I finally felt...safe, or maybe I just simply liked the feeling, his warm ambery scent, but I just laid there for a while. Sunlight was spilling into the dormitory as much as it could. Not much penetrated the four-poster curtains, though. But when George began stirring a bit, I knew he'd woken up. That was when I shut my eyes in case he checked to see if I was awake too (and he _did _check). And after, he, too, continued to lay there just the way we were. He even started stroking my hair back. It was sort of hard to do considering my curls and knots, but he was gentle, twisting curls around his finger. But he stopped immediately after hearing the same rustling I did from another four-poster.

Fred, at least I assumed, gave a deliberately loud yawn, George completely freezing. His chest hardened like marble under my head. I finally lifted myself from it and we shared a wide-eyed look of alarm.

"Rise and shine, vagabonds!" Fred called out, audibly pealing away his curtains.

My hand instantly flew to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle. George's hand joined in, pretending it would actually make a difference.

"Lee, was that you or did you bring home a broad last night, you saucy imp?" He must've pulled back the curtains from Lee's bed.

"What're you on about?" Lee groaned groggily. "I didn't hear a thing."

"Do my ears deceive me or is it you, Georgie?" I could clearly detect Fred's voice getting closer.

George panicked and threw a hand to my chest, nearly pushing me off the bed. "Your ears deceive you!" he shouted to his twin, gesturing for me to go. Just before Fred pulled back George's curtains, I was standing on the other side of the bed, behind those curtains. Luckily, George's four-poster was the closest to the wall.

"Too bad," said Fred. "Thought maybe that's where Demetria's been hiding all this time."

George gave a nervous laugh, probably getting out of bed, and I got down on the floor to check for crawl space under it. The good news: there was, and so I crawled underneath. The bad news: there were quite a few other things under his bed besides myself. Mainly clothes...some pranking products...

"Speaking of hiding, where'd you disappear to last night, George?" Lee inquired.

"I went looking for Demetria again, is all," he said effortlessly...though probably because that technically wasn't a lie.

"Well you must've found her then, if you were gone all night," Fred suggested.

"No, I didn't actually," he lied. "I went up to the Clock Tower and just...sat and thought."

"About what?" pressed Lee.

They were all moving about, probably getting ready for classes.

"Her, mainly," George told them. He sounded genuine about that. I wondered if any part of it was true.

"Sorry, mate," said Fred softly. "I can't imagine how it must've felt to see her and Cedric..." his voice trailed off, not needing to go any further. We all knew he meant mine and Cedric's kiss at the Yule Ball. No wonder George had gotten so angry...for everything.

"Well they aren't official or anything, so maybe there's still hope for you two," Lee offered brightly.

"I seriously doubt that," said George, crestfallen. "You guys go on ahead, I'll be down in a minute."

I waited, even after I heard the door open and close, before crawling out from under the bed. And I was expecting to see a George matching the one I'd just heard a moment ago, but instead he was standing in the mirror, adjusting his tie, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world.

"It wasn't really necessary to hide _under _the bed, love," he told me with an amused smirk.

I looked down and felt the need to dust myself off, though nothing was really on me. I was still clad in nothing but George's button-down shirt. "George...I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what else to say.

He turned and looked to me in confusion. "It's nothing to be sorry about, love, _I'm _the one who's sorry — I should probably be a bit more organized."

"I'm not talking about that," I told him seriously.

"I just needed to tell them something they could belie —"

"It's true, I know it is, it explains everything," I rushed out.

"Dem..." He still looked as though he would protest, still gave me that playful smirk as though it were nothing.

"Don't lie to me, George."

That wiped the grin right off his face. He didn't speak for a while; shrugged his shoulders, ears reddening a bit before he finally did. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!" I objected.

"Does it change how you feel?"

"I don't —"

It happened before I'd even registered it. George had grabbed me by the waist and pressed his lips to mine. I was expecting it to be rough, given the moment, but he was...gentle. It had already been longer than my kiss with Cedric... In fact, it felt as though it lasted hours. I thought of my kiss with Cedric, mouth gradually opening and he responding with his tongue. But then I realized...it wasn't Cedric... I pulled away, George staring back at me expectantly. But after a moment of silence, his face fell. I didn't even have to answer his previous question.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Like I said, it doesn't matter," he convinced himself more than me, reaching for his grey uniform sweater.

"Yes, it —"

"It doesn't change how you feel and so it doesn't matter," he didn't sound angry, just stern...and grim.

"I still care about you so it _does _matter," I argued. "I care about how you feel, you're my friend —"

"Yeah, we're great friends!" George exclaimed. "And I knew that you obviously fancied Diggory too! And yet, somehow, that didn't stop me...from putting my heart on the line!"

"George —"

"Just let me finish," he said, composing himself. "Alright, that _was_ out of line...I didn't have to tell you how I felt. But I did because...I thought _maybe _there was a chance you felt the same way I did. You wanted to stay with me last night...laid your head on me... I knew you were awake, by the way."

"I didn't mean to — If I led you on or — I just..." I should've realized this sooner. I gave George false hope. It was all my fault.

"You just...?"

"I just feel...safe...with you." I wish I could've told him more...and it be true. "But I s'pose you don't want to be around me anymore."

"What?" said George at once. "Of course I do. Demetria, we really are great friends. Besides...I've practically seen you naked."

I couldn't refrain from smiling. He always knew how to bring one out of me, no matter what the circumstances. He even gave me that mischevious lopsided grin of his.

"But I don't want to hurt you," I told him whole-heartedly.

His smile remained intact. "I'll get over it, love," he assured. "Don't you worry about your devilishly handsome ol' pal."

"It's not Finn I'm worried about," I returned the smirk...until something dawned on me. "Son of a Banshee..."

"What is it?"

"Finn, Viktor, Grigor, everyone else on the ship...everyone else in this entire school!" I began. "I wish I could just avoid all the questions I know they'll ask me."

"Well you certainly aren't dressed to answer any of their questions right now," agreed George, looking me up and down as though for the first time.

"Well what am I s'posed to do?" I asked. "All of my clothes are on the ship where all of the blokes from my school are!"

"Temper, temper, Princess," said George in jest. "You'll just have to wait here until everyone's asleep an —"

"Oh no, absolutely not," I interjected. "You are not leaving me hauled up in your dormitory all bloody day!"

"Well I don't see another option," he said desolately. "Unless, of course, you'd like to wrap yourself in the curtains."

"Just give me a pair of trousers," I insisted.

"None of them will come close to fitting you," George reasoned. "And somehow, that's a worse idea than the curtains."

"I'll be fine, everyone's gone down to breakfast by now," I persisted. "Just let me borrow a pair."

"Don't give me that look, Princess," said George at once, looking away. "Just because I admitted to fancying you doesn't mean you can use it against me."

I hadn't even realized I was giving him any sort of look. I had to be more aware of things like that so I wouldn't hurt George even more...

"Sorry, I didn't realize," I said sincerely, averting my eyes as well. But when they returned to George, he was laying on his stomach on the floor at the foot of his bed.

"That's alright, I'll get you back," he vowed in a playfully wicked sort of way.

"Oh really?" I played along with a smirk. "How so?"

George popped up from the floor, clothes held in one arm. Sure enough, he too, was smirking. "I can't reveal my secrets, love." He then handed me the pile. "It's cold out there."

"George, I'm used to far colder temperatures than this," I assured him, going through it; fleece pajama pants, a heavy thermal sweater, and...sneakers? "And what am I s'posed to do with these?"

"There's still some snow out there, you're not walking to the ship barefoot," he told me authoritatively.

"What happened to not wearing things too big for me?" I questioned, holding up his sneakers which were obviously far too big for my feet.

"That went out the window when you asked for my pants." He held up the pajama pants in protest, which were obviously made for George's long legs and not mine.

"Fair enough." I took the pants back from him and pulled my legs through, then had to actually pull the pants up enough for my feet to even be seen. I put the sweater over my head and then sat on the four-poster with the shoes. They were Chuck Taylors; black with white laces.

"Not up to royal standards?" teased George with a good-natured smile on his face.

"I've never owned a pair of sneakers," I admitted, putting one on. I didn't even need to untie them. "I always wear those combat boots."

"Ol' Grandad doesn't approve?"

I froze after sliding my other foot in. Grandad. Had he woken up yet? Did Benjamin tell him where I was? And what about Jack? Did Benjamin find his family? Would there be a funeral? How much did Mrs. Gelling cry? How badly did Mr. Gelling want to find whoever killed his son? Did Benjamin even tell them what really happened? That he was killed... Or did he lie to them? I wonder if Jack had siblings...friends that would mourn him. Or maybe Jack was like me and had no one...except perhaps a grandfather.

"Sorry, that was... I didn't mean it," came George again.

"What, no, it's not that," I told him. "I was just thinking..."

George sat down next to me. "I'm sure he's fine, love," he assured me sincerely. "I wouldn't worry about him." The bell sounded throughout the grounds and the castle. "_Aaaaand_ now I've missed the most important meal of the day."

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, I'll just swing by the kitchens on my way to..." George paused and then feigned vomiting off to the side. "...double Potions."

"You have _double _Potions?" I asked fervently, the two of us getting up from his four-poster. "Lucky..."

"_Lucky_?!" he parroted incredulously. "Having Snape two periods in a row is anything but!"

"Snape is —" I caught myself, realizing that I couldn't mention I knew Snape without blowing that at least Grandad was a Death Eater. "— nothing I'm sure I couldn't handle. I love Potions. I'm in an advanced class back at Durmstrang."

"I shouldn't be surprised," said George, opening the dormitory door for me. "I'd heard you were one of the top students in the entire school."

"Well, er, yeah," I admitted modestly. "So if you ever need help, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, love," George said with a genuine smile. When the two of us reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped me at the portrait hole. "You might want to wait until everyone's gotten to their classrooms," he advised. "Looks as though you won't be avoiding your Durmstrang chums after all."

"Might as well get the questioning over with then," I said defeatedly. "Now don't you have a double Potions class to get to?"

"You're right, can't be late to that," George went to open the portrait hole, but froze and turned to face me for a moment. "Although..."

"What is it?" I curiously inquired.

"I just don't see how I'm going to be able to focus for about two hours without thinking of those lacey knickers of yours," he said with a sly grin. I raised my eyebrows to him until it unfolded in my mind. "Fred and I had Harry pegged as the thong wearer."

"You said it was too dark to see anything, you git!" I recalled the previous night and how I said I wouldn't crawl into his bed first...for this exact reason.

"I also said I'd get you back," he countered. "So long, Princess!" And before I could say anything else, he'd disappeared on the other side.

What was I going to do with him?

–

"Where were you?!"

"Vhere haff you been?"

"Why did you disappear?"

"Ve vere vorried!"

"We thought we had lost the tournament!"

Ah, good to know their concern wasn't for my safety or anything... Although, I shouldn't say that. Some of my Durmstrang brothers _were_ genuinely concerned. They all attacked me with questions the moment I'd come within sight of the ship. And boarding was no better.

"I just needed a break!" I explained to them, everyone quieting down. "Professor Dumbledore sent me home and I just...took an extra day. I'm sorry if I worried you, but I'm back. And...I'm ready to win this for Durmstrang!"

Cheers errupted. Godric, they were so easy. It seemed as though they'd cheer for anything as long as you shouted it out. But I didn't test that theory, simply made my way toward mine and Viktor's bunk bed. But before I could make it that far, I was stopped by none other than Nikolai.

"So glad you have returned, Lille Prinsesse," he said in a bitter tone which didn't quite match the malicious smirk on his face. "I thought I would have to take your place in the tournament."

"Well then it's a right good thing I came back when I did, or else you would've cost Durmstrang its victory," I challenged. We both kept our voices low enough so not to attract attention.

Nikolai gave a full laugh. "I would not be so sure of that," he told me gravely. "Would you like to hear what Karkaroff told me when I asked to do the stepping in?"

"Probably something along the lines of..." I hoped my Norwegian was up to par. "...over min kalde døde kropp." _**(Over my cold dead body)**_

"_Everte Statum!_" Before I could even think to counter attack, or retrieve my wand, I was shot with a short burst of sharp pain, knocking me off my feet and backwards a bit.

But in that same instant, someone came up from behind me with their wand extended toward Nikolai. "_Fumunculus!_" It was Grigor.

"_Fumunculus_?" repeated Finn in disbelief, coming from behind to help me to my feet. "That's the first one you thought of, Grig?"

"It is much worse than it looks," Grigor defended. "Try to remove all of them, Pavel!"

Nikolai stood before me, face covered in boils. His expression was actually unreadable... I couldn't see past the work of the Pimple Jinx. But he kept his beady eyes on me as his cronies rushed him toward the other side of the cabin.

"Perhaps next time _you _should do the spell casting if you think you can come up with something better on the spot," Grigor casually said to Finn.

"There should not be a next time," came Viktor. I was wondering when he'd pop in. "Demetria, you know you should not be getting involved with Pavel and his gluposti." _**(bullshit)**_

"Da, bashta," I teased him; Grigor and Finn chuckled. _**(Yes, father)**_

Viktor gave his usual amiable smile. "I like to think of myself more as a viser, older brother," he said before coming up to me and tousling my hair.

I laughed but maneuvered away from him and made my way toward our bunk bed.

"So is it true?" Grigor asked me as we came to our corner of the cabin.

"Yes, of course," I assured all three of them, for they were all looking to me expectantly. "Where else would I have been?"

Finn still looked unsure, but I couldn't blame him. He was, after all, the only one who had an idea of what I was really up to. He kept silent, but that answer satisfied Grigor and Viktor.

"Well it is good to haff you back...truly," said Grigor, obviously more sincere than Nikolai.

"Strictly for the tournament, of course," Viktor joked.

"Right, of course." I smiled, Viktor planting a kiss on top of my head.

"Sestra," he said softly to me before addressing all of us. _**(sister)**_ "Vell, I am going for a swim."

"A swim?" I was shocked...though not much. After all, I'd seen him swim in colder waters than the lake we were docked in.

The lake...swimming... Oh, for the love of Merlin!

"When's the second task?" The question shot out, causing a bit of a jump from Finn and Grigor, Vik already having walked off.

"About...five weeks away," replied Finn. "I thought you already figured out the clue."

"I did," I assured him. "I just need some practice."

And so I rushed off after Viktor, climbing out of the cabin and catching him at the starboard railing, pulling off his pants. He had a pair of swimming trunks conveniently underneath.

"Swim often, Vik?" I asked him as he pulled off his shirt. We were the only two on the deck.

"Lately," he told me. "I haff been looking for vays to make this task easier for you."

"Any luck?"

"So far it has been nothing but attempting Transfiguration," he admitted, looking out at the lake.

"Transfiguration?" I echoed. "You mean on yourself?"

"Yes, such as the shark," he explained. "The trick is to Transfigure...not completely. Othervise you vill haff the brain of a shark as vell."

"How the sodding hell am I s'posed to do _that_?" I asked him.

"Vhen I learn, you vill be the first to know, trust me," Viktor assured.

"Well shouldn't I be helping?" I inquired. "It's _my_ task, after all. You shouldn't be doing all the work, Vik."

"Doing all of the vork vould include pulling it off and swimming through the lake to find whatever it is the morska sirena has taken," he said airily. "And _that_ is _your _job."

I had almost forgotten what was expected of me for the task. "What d'you reckon they'll take?"

"It is hard to say," said Viktor. "Is there something of value to you?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Except for that damn locket...

"Then perhaps you vill haff it easier than the others already," offered Viktor with a small smile before diving off into the lake.

That was the first I'd thought of the locket since Finn and I went to see...whatever her name was, that loony Divination professor. I didn't even have another dream. Light with a capital L. Ugh, I was not about to try and decode that again.

Viktor re-surfaced, just his head bobbing up in the middle of the lake. He waved me in. "Going to join me?" he called out.

"Are you insane?" I shouted back.

"Practice makes perfect!" he said simply.

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, looking around to ensure no one had come up on deck. The coast was clear, so I stripped down to my bra and knickers. Viktor wolf-whistled as I stood up on the railing.

"Shut up, Vik," I told him, though still smiling. "You're my brother." And then I dove in.

He and I swam and practiced Transfiguring ourselves all day... Well, until lunch, at least. He'd also suggested we investigate the lake further so I'd have an idea of what I was up against, but I told him an advantage that big wouldn't be fair at all.

So when the bell for lunch sounded throughout the grounds, Viktor and I waited some time after for the ship to clear out before getting back on deck and putting our clothes on. Although, I did actually take that opportunity to retrieve my own clothes from the cabin and change into those. After doing so, Viktor and I made our way to the Great Hall, discussing other possible options other than Transfiguring.

"Couldn't we do something a bit simpler?" I asked him as we entered the castle.

"Such as vhat — the Bubble-Head Charm?" he questioned mockingly. "Demi, that Madame Maksimalen —" **(**_**Maximum**_**)** I gave a full laugh at that. "— is like Grigor said: all about the style points. You vill not impress her with something simple."

"Alright, well what if instead of a shark, it was a — ?"

"Ve vill continue this later," said Viktor decidedly as we approached our usual spots at the Slytherin table.

That was when I remembered what I'd completely forgotten I wanted to avoid — everyone's questions. And sure enough, taking my seat among my Slytherin acquaintances (Not sure if _friends _was the appropriate term), that was exactly what they did. But much to my surprise, it wasn't Finn, Viktor, or Grigor who got them to stop. It wasn't even me.

"Oi! Sod off! Don't you reckon she's heard enough of that?" It was Draco. "She probably went home for the holiday. Am I right?"

He directed his grey orbs toward me then. "Yeah, I did," I replied. That seemed to settle things. I wondered if Draco knew what I'd been up to, if his father filled him in. When all of the nosey onlookers returned to their own conversations, I muttered "Thanks" to him.

"No problem." And he actually offered a small smile with it. A genuine one, at that. I wish I'd actually taken the time to get to know Draco during all those Death Eater meetings or whatever we were both forced to attend.

"Well, Demetria, now that you _are_ back," came Adrian charmingly. "I was just wondering how you thought I was as your date."

"Fit for a champion," I assured him. "Speaking of dates..." I turned to Grigor who appeared to be wrestling with a chicken leg rather than eating it. "How did yours go, Grig?"

"I had fun...Ginny said she did too," he told me brightly. "You know I am usually not one for dancing, but she convinced me." He said the next part softer, leaning in closer to me. "Thank you again for doing the setting up."

"Don't mention it, mate," I told him with a grin. "What about you, Vik?"

"I, too, had fun," he shared. "Er, Herm-own-ninny —"

"Hermione?" I offered.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I like her...very much...but her red-headed friend does not like me."

Ah, Ron. I had a front row seat to that. "I'm sure he'll come around," I insisted, despite that.

"Sorry, blokes, but the only date I'm concerned with — besides my own — is Draco's," came Finn seriously.

"Why's that?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Because it obviously didn't go well, and I can't thank you enough for whatever you did to ruin it."

We all gave a chuckle at that, even Draco having to laugh a bit. I'd forgotten Draco ended up taking that awful pug-looking girl, Pansy, and was also grateful she was no longer sitting with us at the table.

"You never did tell us vhat happened," prodded Viktor.

"That's because I'm still trying to forget," Draco defended.

"Aw, c'mon, _Drakey_," cooed Adrian. We all errupted in laughter again.

"Alright, alright," Draco admitted defeat, though smiling like a good sport. "Well, long story short...ened... I had Crabbe and Goyle acting as my bodyguards but she continued to try and hug me, cuddle me, kiss me, her hands were restless the entire night. So I finally told her I'd get us something to drink and for her to wait at the table. When I didn't return after...oh, a good..._ten bloody minutes_, she went searching for me and found me dancing with another bird. Didn't want to speak to me again after that, told me we were 'over'." He applied the air-quotes.

Finn began applauding and soon we all joined in.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he announced, raising his goblet. "To Draco Malfoy: for being the worst possible date and getting rid of that unbearable wench!"

We all raised our goblets and chorused, "To Draco Malfoy!" before all taking a swig and laughing once again. But we were interrupted by a particular Hufflepuff approaching our table.

"Demetria, hey," Cedric greeted me from the other side with a warm smile.

"Hi, Cedric." I returned it, and was vaguely aware that someone at the table was making fun of me for it. I wasn't sure who, but I heard the others snickering. Although I didn't care, I was too busy looking at Cedric who looked no where else but at me.

"George told me you were back," he said.

I looked past him for a moment to the Gryffindor table, George catching my eye almost immediately. He was looking over at us, smiling at me when our eyes met and then looking away. It must've been hard on him.

"Yeah, here I am." My gaze returned to Cedric, the smile back in place. I heard more snickers around me. I caught who was mimicking me from out of the corner of my eye.

"I was wondering if... Would you walk with me to my next class?" he asked with sort of a breath of laughter, almost as though he were nervous.

"Yeah, of course," I told him, both of us smiling wider. "Let's go."

And then I'd waited for him to turn and walk off, before slapping the mimicker upside the head without even so much as looking at him.

"Love you too, Dem!" called out Finn.

I turned back after I got up from the bench, rolling my eyes at him with my smile intact. And when I met Cedric at the end of the Slytherin table, we walked out of the Great Hall together.

"So...the second task is coming up soon," I reminded him as we began making our way down a corridor.

"Yeah, thanks again for the tip on the egg," he said sweetly. "I passed it on to Harry."

"Oh, so I _did_ tell you?" I asked. "Hm...I couldn't remember if I did or not."

"Well it _was_ sort of a while ago," he advocated. "It was before you left..."

Godricdammit! I should've known he'd ask too. "Sorry about that..." was all I could think of saying.

"You don't have to apologize, you had your reasons," he said sympathetically. "Besides, I'm sure you've been getting interrogated all day."

"It certainly has been quite the popular ice breaker," I said, earning a small chuckle from Cedric.

"The only thing I want to know is..." He grew serious then. "...was it because of me? The reason you left, I mean. I thought maybe...after the kiss..."

"What?" I stopped in my tracks after we'd gotten off a staircase. Cedric followed suit. "No, no, absolutely not. I just needed a br —"

"Like I said, I'm sure you had your reasons," said Cedric. And all he had to do to silence me before he spoke was tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I'd pulled my wet hair into a high ponytail but I suppose I'd missed some pieces in the haste. "Don't feel forced to tell me anything."

"I don't," I told him honestly. That made him smile, which I couldn't help but mirror.

Just then, the bell rang.

"Well maybe when we've got more time," he suggested. "Like at the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday."

"Shall I invite the rest of the blokes again or...?" My voice trailed off, hoping he wouldn't say yes.

"Not this time," Cedric told me with that charming smile of his. Students could be heard throughout the castle now. "I s'pose you could call it a...date."

I stood there smiling at him for what felt like a century. "Looking forward to it," I finally told him.

"Me too," he admitted, beaming. Students rushed on to the staircases and passed us then. "Well I should get to class."

"Right, yeah, I'll see you around," I told him, though still not moving. Neither did he.

"See you," he returned.

But before walking off, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. If I hadn't been smiling like a tosspot before, I certainly was then. I watched Cedric walk off then, smile intact, and didn't turn to leave until he was out of sight.

I felt a pang of guilt, though, for I then remembered that George felt for me what I felt for Cedric. And then I realized...

I just admitted I fancied Cedric...

–

"Took you long enough!"

"You are just realizing this now?"

"I vas expecting something more exciting..."

"Thank you all for your support," I deadpanned.

I was back aboard the ship after my walk with Cedric, having just told Finn, Viktor, and Grigor about my realization.

"Vell this vas not exactly _news_, Demi," said Viktor, pulling down his pants to reveal, once again, swimming trunks.

"Vik, you ever gonna take a break, lad?" asked Finn. Viktor looked to me.

"It is for the tournament," he replied, eyes still on me.

"Finn's right, you should take a break," I suggested.

"Alright, now I am confused," Grigor admitted. "Vhy is Viktor doing the swimming if Demetria is doing the task?"

"He's been trying to figure out partial self-Transfiguration," I explained. "And once he knows, he'll teach me so I can breathe underwater."

"You do not know how to self-Transfigure?" Grigor inquired, seeming taking aback.

"We're only fourth years, you don't learn that until sixth," Finn clarified. "Besides they're only partially Transfiguring."

"Vhich reminds me..." said Viktor suddenly. "You vere about to suggest something other than a shark vhen ve came to the Great Hall."

"Oh right," I said doubtfully. "Well I — er — it's nothing, it's stupid."

"Well then now you _have _to tell us," said Finn in jest.

I smiled despite my doubts. "Alright, fine," I admitted defeat. "Rather than a shark, what if I could Transfigure into...whatever's in the lake."

I waited in the silence, different expressions registering across their faces. Grigor appeared rather taken aback, Finn was looking impressed, and Viktor was...well, thinking...

"That could vork..." he said, still musing. "Full Transfiguration may even be possible..."

"So, vhat, Demetria is becoming the giant squid?" Grigor inquired innocently.

"Grig, where'd you hear that?" asked Finn, amused.

"Everyvun from Hogvarts is saying such things..."

"I reckon they're just trying to scare us, seeing as how we're _on _this lake every sodding day," I suggested.

"Alright, so what's Dem _really _becoming?" Finn directed his question toward Viktor. "A mermaid?"

"If I remember correctly...morska sirena are not found in waters such as these," he shared, pulling his trousers back up to cover his trunks. "Ve should visit the library just to be sure."

"Sounds as though you've been spending a bit too much time with Hermione," I teased. Fred and George had told me about Ron and his friends, Hermione being the one who always insisted upon homework and studying and such.

"I actually have not seen her since the Yule Ball," Viktor admitted, a hint of saddness in his tone. We all began following him off the ship and across the grounds.

"Why not?" Finn came in sympathetically.

"Nothing has gone vrong," Viktor insisted hastily. "Ve simply...haff not run into eachother."

"Well then maybe you should just find her on purpose and ask her out," I brightly offered, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You two should get out of the library, maybe take her on the Hogsmeade trip this weekend!"

"I vas going to vork on the Transfiguring this veekend," he said indifferently.

"Vik, you've already done more than your share," I insisted. "This is my task, so I'll figure it out. You said yourself I won't need partial Transfiguration, and that's part of what made it so difficult." Viktor could see I was making sense. Maybe he was just nervous to be on an actual date.

"It could be dangerous if not done prop —"

"I'm one of the best in the school, Vik, you're all out of excuses. Go out, brat," **(**_**brother**_**)** I pressed; he was beginning to smile. "I'll stay here and work on the Transfiguring..._and _babysit Grigs."

"Vhat?" said Grigor himself, who had clearly not been paying attention. Probably mesmerized by the moving staircases we were on then.

Viktor laughed, something he didn't do as much as he should. "Alright, you vin, I vill ask her."

"On the contrary, I reckon it's _you _who wins, mate," said Finn, playfully nudging Viktor in the ribs.

Viktor gave another full laugh, but it ceased as soon as we were outside what I assumed was the library. "Just a varning: the librarian is samiyat strikten." **(**_**very strict**_**)**

Vik, Finn, and I turned to look at Grigor. "_Naistina_?" he said exasperatedly. _**(Really)**_

"Just making sure you heard." Finn patted him on the back before we entered through the library doors.

Dark. That was all I noticed at first. Not much light in there, and well, other than that it was much like any other library. It wasn't quite as big as the one back at Durmstrang, but they possessed the same bookshelves, tables, wooden study carrels...old book smell. Durmstrang's had a huge window that nearly covered an entire wall, allowing sunlight to spill in and give one a front row seat to the Norwegian mountains.

Viktor being the expert, out of the four of us, on the Hogwarts library, led us to the appropriate section and began searching.

"Vhat exactly is it ve are looking for?" Grigor asked.

"Anything on —"

"Merpeople," Finn cut off Viktor, showing us the book he found. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He was already flipping through the pages.

"Well this went easier than expected," I airily said.

"Yes, a bit _too _easy," Viktor agreed. "Vhat does it say, Finnick?"

"Let's see... Sirens —"

"Morska sirena," Viktor clarified more toward Grigor and I.

"— are the earliest recorded race of merpeople...lived in _warm _water...Greece...exceptionally beautiful as compared to colder water merpeople like selkies and Merrows."

"Great, it had to be the ugly one," I sneered.

"Perhaps one is...less ugly," Grigor offered to cheer me up.

"You won't like it either way," Finn told me truthfully.

"You know of both creatures?" inquired Viktor curiously.

"Yeah, I've encountered my fair share," he shared. "I grew up here in Scotland, and anytime I'd go swimming, my mum would tell me to watch out for selkies. Merrows are Irish."

"I thought you _vere_ Irish," said Grigor, amazed.

"That's like saying 'I thought you were Russian'," Finn countered.

"You sound the same!" he defended.

"_You _sound the same," Finn returned, though keeping his voice low and smirk intact.

"Keep it down!" appeared the librarian out of no where, whispering fiercely. The woman looked like underfed vulture. Her skin was parchment-like, her cheeks sunken, face shrivelled, and she even had an unflattering hooked-nose. She was so thin, she looked as though she might snap at any minute...literally _and _figuratively.

"Madam Pince," Viktor disclosed as she disappeared.

"Oh, I thought that was a selkie," I said, half comically and half sarcastically.

"You should _be_ so lucky," said Finn at once, turning the book to face me and revealing a close-up photo of what I inferred was a selkie, swimming up to the camera and screaming before doing it all over again.

It bore no resemblance to the beautiful mermaids and sirens I'd grown up assuming were the majority of merpeople. The selkie appeared more fish than human. The one in the picture had grey skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Its eyes were piercingly yellow, as were its broken teeth.

"Svyat laĭna!" Grigor shouted out, the first time the selkie came right up to the edge of the photo. **(**_**Holy shit**_**)**

Madam Pince was back immediately, staring us down silently with an irate expression. Grigor was first to rush out, the rest of us following suit directly behind. I turned to see if she was still watching us just before I walked out the door... She was.

"Vhat did I tell you?" said Viktor, the three of us looking to Grigor again.

"I could haff used some varning about the selkie," was his excuse.

But just as we began walking off, the library doors were opened again, Madam Pince stepping out, so livid she was practically turning red. She had an owl on her shoulder with a parcel in its beak.

"Demetria Harris?" she grumbled.

"Yes," was all I had to say before the owl came swooping toward me. By the time it had perched itself on my own shoulder, Madam Pince had disappeared back into the library, doors being slammed behind her.

"Sweet woman," Finn mocked.

I removed the letter from the owl's beak, the front of it reading my name in an unrecognizable handwriting. Regardless, I unfolded it and read.

_Demetria _—

_I found Jack Gelling's family. Well, his aunt... I told her I saw him get mixed up in a bar fight, that he was trying to defend a young girl. But the bloke he fought went too hard on him and he was beaten to death. It was the best I could do on the spot._

_ This woman didn't know me, didn't even ask if I was a friend of Jack's, but she still hugged me and thanked me...and cried on me. She told me to take her to the bar (I'd moved his body to Lost Angel) and on the way, she told me some things. She said she had to raise him on her own, her sister and her husband not fit to be parents. She didn't say why, just that Mr. and Mrs. Gelling had to deal with their bullshit before they could handle taking on a child. But they obviously never were and still aren't._

_ Jack was going to turn 21 next month. He was studying at some Muggle school called University of Oxford. He wanted to become a lawyer, though I'm not entirely sure what that is. His aunt also told me he was suffering from a disease called lupus. I'm not quite sure what that is either, but she told me it was something very painful and difficult to deal with, but Jack never showed that pain to anyone...except her, of course._

_ Demetria, I doubt this will help you but...I was hoping it might, even just a bit. Jack has been put out of his misery. He no longer has to live a life of pain and struggle. And that isn't just me talking, it's his aunt. Even she looked on the bright side of this. She said he was finally in a place where he couldn't hurt any longer._

_ In other news (a smooth transition, I know), Carlisle woke up about an hour ago and I told him all about what happened. He said it was a right good call sending you back to Hogwarts and he wishes you luck in the next task of the tournament, and so do I. He also sends you his love...and a surprise waiting for you in the kitchens, which I had nothing to do with. Unless you like it, in which case I had everything to do with it._

_ Be safe,_

—_ Benjamin Turner_

"Who is it from?" inquired Grigor.

"My grandad," I replied after a moment, letting the owl go. It soared off out the nearest window.

"You vere just vith him during the holiday," Grigor pressed as we all began making our way down the multiple staircases.

"Yes well, there was just something he forgot to tell me about my...Christmas present," I quickly thought up.

"So _that _is vhat that vas..." said Viktor grimly.

"What _what_ was?" I asked.

All three blokes exchanged looks as though to decide which would be the one to tell me...whatever it was they had to.

"It should be you, Vik, you're the one who first noticed," Finn insisted.

"Will someone just tell me!" I fervently demanded.

"All I know is I voke up Christmas morning and nearly cut my foot on broken glass by our bunk," Viktor explained to me. "Grigor helped me collect it and ve vere going to throw it avay, but Finn said ve should ask you."

"But you didn't come back on the ship all day, and you left before the ball was even over," Finn finished as we made our way out on to the grounds.

_I awoke, mid-scream, to find my body being shaken by Finn. And for a moment, all I could do was stare at him through the darkness, his sea-foam green eyes popping out against it. And he didn't even have to ask anything, for he was fully aware of what happened and was already helping me down from my bunk, a slight smashing sound emitted as he did so. _

"Did you ever piece it together?" I asked just out of curiosity.

"Yeah, but we'd forgotten about it until now," he said. "Still got it somewhere, Viktor?"

"Of course."

Once back on the ship, we went down into everyone's shared cabin and over to the bunk Viktor and I shared. Vik began his search for my present under the bunk...well, his part of it.

"Dem, if you haff your own dormitory back at Durmstrang, vhy is it you do not haff your own room on the ship?" Grigor wondered.

"The ship isn't exactly outfitted with plenty of cabins to go around," Finn answered for me. I was watching Viktor pull a box out from under his bed. "Besides, she's got all the privacy she could ever want right here in the corner," he finished sarcastically.

"It's true," I added derisively. "I just hope I don't get too accustomed to the luxury of changing clothes under my blankets every morning."

"You haff done that vonce," Viktor said with a chuckle, opening the box, slowly and carefully unwrapping the object from the wrapping paper and tissue molded around it. "Just do not grow accustomed to me sheilding you as you change your clothes every morning."

Finn and Grigor joined in the laughter, but mine ceased as soon as my eyes fell upon the object, finally unwrapped. It was a black leather case with some silver lettering on it that I couldn't quite make out from looking at it upside down. But whatever it said, it caused Viktor to conclude his laughter as well. He looked up at me with a smile.

"You vill like this, Demi," he assured me, turning the case around to face me.

_Aiden Patrick Harris_

And then I mirrored Viktor's smile. It was my father's, probably the same broomstick servicing kit he used as a Tornado. I knelt down and unlatched it, the inside of the top home to numerous clippings from the _Daily Prophet _and _Quidditch Illustrated _all about my father. There were also different stickers of the Tornado's symbol, the blue double-T. Needless to say, I was far more interested in the articles rather than the instruments for broomcare. They all talked about some extraordinary move or trick Dad had performed, or how his goal had saved the game. One article even spoke of the Tornados being chosen to represent England in the Quidditch World Cup of 1978, my father ensuring the win.

That was what I wanted for myself...not for the rest of my life, but for a good portion of it. I wanted to carry on Dad's legacy, and perhaps even start one of my own. But I knew Grandad didn't exactly want that for me. He said I was so gifted and intelligent, I had the skills to become practically anything I wanted. I just had no idea what to be...

"Your father truly was incredible, Dem," Finn commented, looking over my shoulder at a clipping.

"Yeah..." I said almost distantly. "I just wish I knew more about him than these reporters probably did."

I got up from the floor and gingerly placed the kit on Viktor's bed, taking a seat next to it.

"Your grandfather never speaks of him?" Viktor inquired.

"He doesn't really like to," I explained simply.

"You still haff a right to know," Grigor chimed in.

All I could do was nod. Of course he was right, but he also didn't understand how truly impossible it was to hear the slightest thing from him about my father. You'd think he'd want me to know what my dad was like, or that he'd want people to know about his son, his only child. But Grandad was different, certainly...told me it was all still his way to cope — to just repress it. Perhaps one day, though, I'd get something out of him.

I spent the rest of the day admiring the kit, wishing I'd brought my broom to Hogwarts so I could actually put it to use, perhaps with some of the Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. But until I did have my broom, I read the clippings again and again, thinking of what they might say when I became Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados. In fact, that thought alone had kept me preoccupied until the dinner bell rang, and that was when I was reminded of the real issue at hand — a surprise waiting for me in the kitchens...

"Demetrius, wait up!" Finn called out as I made my way off the ship.

"Something I can help you with, Winifinn?" I returned the comical nickname.

"Yes, actually," he said. "I was hoping you could help me understand who that letter was _really _from and what it _actually _said."

"Alright, you caught me," I surrendered. "It said 'Dear, Demetria... Actually... Love, Really."

"And here I am thinking _I'm _the smart ass in the group." Finn smirked.

"I can't exactly get into details about it now," I reasoned with him.

"Really quickly, in a nutshell, before we get to the castle," he suggested. "I'll walk slower."

"I thought I was going to stay at home and never come back to school, I attended Death Eater meetings, I was went on a mission of sorts to pick up a Muggle at a bar and bring him home to torture, Antonin Dolohov got carried away with it and killed the Muggle, wanted me to do it but I refused so he used the Cruciatus Curse on me, George's Patronus came in delivering a message and I accidentally sent one back and it recorded my scream from the curse, my grandad was knocked unconscious from a spell when he tried to help me, another Death Eater stepped in to save me, they all left except that one — Benjamin — but then Dolohov came back and I was half naked, George came to save me, Benjamin got rid of Dolohov... Er, I reckon that's it..."

I'd rushed it all out in practically one breath all before we'd reached the Great Hall. Finn looked to me in relative awe, but then his usual calm demeanor took over.

"All in a day's work, eh?"

I playfully nudged him in the shoulder as we entered the hall. "Oh, and the letter was from Benjamin telling me not to feel bad about the Muggle dying..." Did I still feel bad? I wasn't entirely sure, I hadn't thought much about it, my mind mostly still consumed with the surprise. I wondered if I should even mention it to Finn.

"Well you shouldn't," said Finn seriously. "I wasn't even there and I know it's not your fault. Dem, you couldn't've done anything without getting yourself killed too..."

It was true. Harsh, but definitely true.

"Hey," I stopped Finn, also by placing a hand on his chest. "What d'you think of sitting with Gryffindor tonight?"

He smiled straight away. "After you, m'lady."

Taking my hand from his chest, he held it out and allowed me to lead him over to the table. I rolled my eyes at the gesture but couldn't help smiling the entire time. I located the two redheads I was looking for with relative ease, and saw the two others close by.

"Well well well," said Fred, seated on the other side of the table. "If it isn't the Princess and her court jester."

"Court jester?" Finn echoed with a smirk. "Then what does that make the two of you?"

George was seated across from his twin, the two sharing a significant glance before looking back at the two of us.

"We work for the Princess as well, don't worry, Finny," George assured with the same sly grin as his brother.

"We just earn more of her _love_." Fred wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.

"Remind me again why I wanted to sit here," I said humorously to Finn.

"If you ever figure that out, let me know," said Lee in jest.

George pushed him down the bench a bit, good-naturedly. "I believe a seat has just opened up," he joked.

Finn offered for me to sit and I would've, but I thought it might not be alright for George.

"You take it," I insisted. "I'll sit by the better half." Fred winked.

I made my way all the way around the table, apparently catching the eye of Harry Potter, because he called my name just as I sat down next to Fred.

Harry was two Gryffindors away, but traded seats with them. Naturally, that brought Ron and Hermione closer as well.

"What brings you over here?" he inquired. I was actually a bit surprised. Harry and I barely spoke.

"Just a change of scenery," I said simply.

"I just wanted to thank you," he said. I wasn't sure what he meant until he added, "Cedric told me." Ah, right, the task.

"Sure, no problem," I assured him whole-heartedly. "Just trying to even the playing field."

"So what about Fleur?" he asked as though he already knew the answer.

"I would've been happy to help, but she ees above us, 'Arry," I mimicked her French accent and lofty tone. That earned a few laughs around the table.

"Demetria," said Hermione after a moment. "I think Ron has something he'd like to say to you as well."

She subtly nudged him, and though I thought he might get angry, he actually needed the nudge because he looked rather uneasy.

"I was...about to get to that," he insisted quietly before turning to me. "Demetria, I just wanted to...er...apologize for the things I said at the Yule Ball. I didn't mean any of it, really."

"Don't even worry about it, Ron," I told him, offering a smile which he mirrored. "I'm sorry I threatened to hex you into the next tournament."

"I'm just sorry it didn't happen," said Fred, earning a few chuckles.

"Could you imagine Ron up against that Hungarian Horntail?" George said, already laughing.

"In a skirt like Fleur's?" I added; everyone joined in the laughter at that point.

"S'pose I deserve that," Ron admitted once the laughter died down. He, too, had joined in on it like a good sport, ears slightly reddening.

We all continued to joke around, at the expense of everyone really. It was fun, nothing like sitting at the Slytherin table. Don't get me wrong, we joked there too, but there was just something more...friendly about it on this side. When the bell sounded, that was the first time I'd been disappointed that it did.

"This was fun," Hermione said, still laughing about something Finn had said.

"Yeah you two ought to sit over here more often," Harry told us sincerely.

"You fit right in," agreed Ron. "Enemy school or not."

He gave a rather uncharacteristic smirk and I rousled his hair a bit.

We bade the Golden Trio goodnight as they walked off first, I walked at the same pace as Finn so we met at the end of the table. Fred, George, and Lee hung back with us.

"So what _really_ brought you over to our table tonight?" Fred asked me. He and Finn always seemed to know there was more to the things I did.

"I decided to take your advice and do what makes me happy," I recalled that night the three of us had snuck into the kitchens.

Fred didn't seem to remember it at first, though. "I told you that?" he asked.

"Well I believe your exact words were 'Tell your grandad to piss off' but that was the jist of it, yeah."

"_Oh_, right, that!" he said, laughing. "Well I'm glad you did."

I couldn't yet decide if I was glad too. For now: yes. But I feared what might happen if my grandfather or even another Death Eater...like Dolohov...caught wind.

"What're we gonna do without you guys once the tournament is over?" Lee asked, in the middle of his own conversation with Finn.

"Who said we'd be without them?" said George. "I believe they've nearly perfected the cloning process."

"Bugger off." I swatted away at George who tried taking a strand of my hair. But I couldn't stop smiling as he tried.

"Someone get Finny's DNA! Quickly!"

We were all standing just outside the Great Hall now, people still filing out. Fred practically tackled Finn trying to get a strand of his hair, Finn laughing and struggling.

"You don't actually believe we're two different people, d'you?" George asked, he and his twin both stopping to stand side by side.

"We're the same," they both chorused.

"Someone just decided to clone me in case I ever left them," Fred said casually, popping his collar. "She just couldn't live without me."

"Oh I'm sure," I played along. "But she got one thing wrong. George has got a scar right above his right eyebrow." I wasn't entirely sure when I'd first noticed it, but it was there — a small, very faint scar.

George and Fred actually looked rather astonished that I'd noticed it, Lee even looked as though he just then noticed it.

"And exactly what activities have you two been taking part in that would require her to get so close to your face, George Fabian?" Fred crossed his arms and spoke authoritatively, but with his usual sly grin.

George's ears began reddening. Oh, he and Ron were definitely related. Luckily, I stepped in. It didn't appear as though George had a witty remark for that one.

"Well we couldn't keep this secret forever, George," I said, feigning sadness as I placed a hand on his chest. "The truth is...George only looks like you, thanks to me."

George had been holding his breath, clearly thinking I would take that in a different direction. But he physically relaxed after I'd said that, his chest falling as he finally released a breath. "It's true, Freddie," George pretended to admit. "Demetria helps me put on my face every morning."

Finn and Lee couldn't suppress their snickering any longer. We all continued to laugh and joke around some more, even long after we were the only ones occupying the hall. Until finally, Finn spoke up.

"Dem, we ought to get back to the ship," he suggested reluctantly.

"Oh, right." I'd actually been hoping to use the crowd of people leaving the hall to cover myself as I snuck into the kitchens. That, unfortunately, was no longer an option, however.

"Yeah, we've got to turn in, too," said Lee. "Great seeing you guys again."

"Likewise, mate," Finn replied for the both of us.

"Always a pleasure, Finn. And glad to have you back, your Majesty." Fred bowed before making his way off with Lee. George hung back still and I could read the unasked question in his eyes.

"You go on, Finn, I'll catch up," I told him.

He looked between the two of us, understandingly, before walking off as well. "Night, George!" he called back.

"Night!"

George waited until Finn was out of earshot to begin speaking. "Did you get in touch with your grandad?" The question caught me a bit off guard.

"Er, yeah, well Benjamin owled me," I explained. "Said my grandad is glad I came back to Hogwarts."

"That's...good."

Back to that word again.

"Yeah..." I agreed, unsure of what else to say. "I don't remember if I ever got the chance to thank you...for that night — _last_ night, I mean."

"I don't remember either, honestly," he admitted with a smile. An actual smile, not one of the Weasley twins' sly grins or smirks.

"Well, thanks," I told him whole-heartedly, mirroring his smile. "It meant a lot...that you came looking for me and all that. And I'm glad you found me."

"I'm glad I found you too," he said sincerely. The smile was fading then, as he got serious. "I'm glad I found you that night after the World Cup in the woods."

It was time to face the fact that no matter how much I wanted him to, George (and Fred, for that matter) would never forget that night. And what was starting to worry me about that, was that they might actually figure out the part I played in all of it. Which wasn't really anything...but they'd know whose side I was on...or at least s'posed to be on.

"That wasn't exactly my shining moment," I admitted, attempting to lighten the mood. George, however, remained serious.

"You were bleeding a lot," he recalled in a small voice. "And ran into Fred —"

"George, don't think too much about that night, wouldn't want your brain to overload," I said, forcing out a laugh. He was having none of it. It actually looked as though something in his head clicked.

I panicked. I had to do it. Maybe not, but I still did. It wasn't _that_ bad, not bad at all, actually. It was innocent and — Oh, what did I do? Did I not mention that? I reached up on my tip-toes and pecked George on the lips. And when I say a peck, I do mean it. It was as though our lips never even met. But it worked, he stopped right in the middle of his next sentence. He looked to me as though he was just noticing I was there, blue eyes wide and face gaining some color.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't've..." my voice trailed off. I had to stop doing that to him, I knew how he felt about me.

George began to lean in to me slowly. I'd given him the completely wrong impression! I did my best to pretend I didn't notice his advance, and shot my head down, suddenly becoming very interest in my boots. How was I going to get myself out of this one?

"Mr. Weasley," came a stern voice from down the hall. Peeking out from behind George, I found it to be Professor McGonagall, that woman with the square spectacles who defended Harry and I against Snape when we'd been chosen as champions. "You are aware you are out past curfew, do you not?"

George quickly composed himself and even straightened up his posture. "Yes, sorry, I was just —"

"No excuses, Mr. Weasley, you are to report back to your dormi —" As she got closer, she realized I had been standing behind George. "Miss Harris," she greeted. "Out for a stroll, are we?"

"I, er, didn't know there was a curfew and needed George's help for something," I quickly pieced together on the spot.

"Well, be that as it may, Mr. Weasley is fully aware of the curfew and may even be serving detention tomorrow evening for breaking it," McGonagall said airily.

"I'm sure it hasn't even been five minutes," George attempted to reason.

"It is...9:35 precisely," McGonagall declared, checking her watch. "Curfew for fifth years and above is 9:00. Care to make it two evenings of detention, Weasley?"

"If George gets detention, I should too," I defended. McGonagall appeared rather taken back, as did George actually. "It is my fault, after all, he wouldn't be out here if it weren't for me."

"That is very noble of you, Miss Harris," she said admiringly. "You will join Mr. Weasley in detention tomorrow evening, but I'm afraid he has earned the second night all on his own."

"Oh, completely agreed," I assured. George appeared insulted, but I swore I saw McGonagall crack a smile at that.

"Now then, shall I escort you back to your common room, or can I trust you not to make any more stops along the way?" she asked George.

"I'm going, I'm going," he insisted, hands up in surrender. "Night, Demetria."

I couldn't help but smile as he began backing away. "Night, George."

"Miss Harris, you will report to my office tomorrow evening, eight o'clock sharp," McGonagall told me seriously before another small smile broke through. "And best of luck to you in the upcoming task."

"Thank you, Professor," I said genuinely before we both began walking in our separate directions.

I didn't even go to this school and yet...I had a detention from it.

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm not too thrilled with this chapter, but it was just sort of necessary, and not every chapter can be as exciting as the last, I'm afraid!_

_I'd just like to thank everyone still reading and reviewing, it means so much to me!_

**_Question of the_**_ **Chapter:** Who do you think Demetria will have to save in the second task?_


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